Tattooed Hearts
by Tatanka4Life
Summary: The past had shackled Jack and Miranda to paths of isolation for most of their lives. Commander Shepard changed that. She changed them. As the Reaper War reaches its epic conclusion, Shepard's critical condition causes Jack's and Miranda's paths to converge. For so long they had walked alone, but perhaps this time they didn't need to. Perhaps together they could find their normal.
1. Chapter 1: A Story for Another Day

Tattooed Hearts

Chapter 1

A Story for Another Day

"Incoming Husks!"

"Feckin' hell, they're everywhere!"

_Shit._ Jack closed her eyes at the comm report from the front barricade.

How long had they been fending off the endless waves of Reaper forces here in London? Had she and her students only been deployed to the back ranks for a handful of weeks? Or had they been fighting for several months now?

What day was it even?

When was the last time she slept?

Jack didn't know anymore. Days blurred together in a haze of smoke and blood. The end of one skirmish meant the beginnings of another with hardly a moments worth of respite in-between.

When had she even sat down last?

Fuck, her feet felt more fragile than a high school student's virginity.

Mentally she shook off the weakness, packaging it up and crushing it with a biotic attack to never be seen again. She didn't have the luxury of weakness. Never had. Never would.

War didn't care if her feet hurt or about her other aches and pains. War was a game that had no definitive start, end or timeout. It was unmerciful. Unrelenting. A real mean bitch.

Right up Jack's territory.

There was one priority on the tattooed biotic's mind. One objective she refused to fail.

Keep her students alive, no matter what.

Forget the relentless aches attacking her muscles. Forget the burning, tingling skin around her amp. None of it mattered. Her well-being didn't matter. As long as she could raise a gun, use her biotics or punch someone, she was fucking fantastic.

The students under her command, they mattered. They were who she was fighting for. They were just a bunch of kids thrown into this unforgiving and hellish war, and she'd make sure they'd get out of it in one piece so they could get back to worrying about if they'd get laid or not.

So far, mission accomplished. Every student was physically unscathed, even stubborn Rodriguez, and she attracted stupid levels of trouble.

_Just keep it up a bit longer. The main force will end this war soon._

Jack kept her mind positive and clear of doubt. Doubt was a poison. Once it took hold, it killed a person before a bullet ever could pop their brains out of their skulls. She'd be damned if these Reaper bastards took a single one of her kids. They'd have to go through her to get to them, and Jack was a woman who did not die easily.

Teltin forged her into a survivor. Fight. Kill. Survive. Even if it meant walking through hell, and she walked that path already. She knew the road to hell intimately.

Every fight, every struggle, every bit of pain she suffered through left scars scrawled across her body and heart, yet none were as tender as those left behind by Cerberus torturing her as a child.

Her personal road to hell melted the soles of her boots to the bottoms of her feet; it scarred her flesh and stole her soul. It created a vengeful, angry, furious and all-powerful bitch. One who did anything to ensure her own survival, no fucks given.

The odds had been against her from the beginning. Yet, despite the odds, she survived.

_No_, Jack thought, shaking of her head._ I didn't just survive to live a pointless existence. I did more than that. I let go of the past and found people who showed me there was more to this life than lies, cruelty, greed and death. It's because of them I became more than what those bastards who tried to break me ever thought I could be._

She found people worth fighting, living and dying for. _No one_ was going to take what she had gained away from her. Anyone who tried would need to send an entire galaxy worth of soldiers to get through her.

_An army the Reapers are sending right now,_ Jack thought solemnly.

Commander Anastasia Shepard—the first woman Jack could call a true friend—had put her and her students in the back ranks for support, undoubtedly to ensure none of the kids were hurt.

An uncaring, overconfident leader would have put them on the frontlines because of their potential, but that wasn't who Shepard was. The N7 knew all the potential in the galaxy didn't change their green as grass experience.

They weren't career soldiers. They weren't even soldiers. They were just a bunch of teenagers with incredible biotic potential, trained to fight because their only other choice was to lie down and die.

The Reapers didn't give them any other choice.

Beyond their abilities, Shepard could see how much Jack cared about her students. They were her little brats, her little family she'd do anything for. Somehow these brats found a way to sooth her calloused heart so she could heal and grow.

In Shepard's eyes, that bond was more valuable than any biotic crushing ability.

Because of the redheaded N7's influence she learned how to place trust in others. By the time the Suicide Mission ended she had seen the rest of the Normandy ground team as close comrades. She even considered Miranda Lawson among them, and ever since the final push she started to worry about all of their safety.

_Ugh,_ Jack groaned and rolled her eyes behind her eyelids, _you see what you did to me, Girl Scout? Made me all soft and mushy._

Damn woman was probably proud of herself. It was probably some silent mission of hers to get Jack to unlock herself from the chains of her past to forge new bonds. The whole idea had been such softhearted nonsense at first. Yet, begrudgingly, Jack listened.

Inch by inch the team earned her trust. Before she could count on one finger the people she cared for and trusted. Now it was more. More than she ever expected.

Jack had received messages from most of the team as they each took up their final posts for the final push. She had even received a message from the Cerberus Cheerleader

It was a simple message reading: _Try not to get yourself killed, Jack. You have people who care if you die._

The message made her roll her eyes before she responded with a simple, but effective: _No shit._

At first that was all she had sent. It was an ordinary conversation for their contentious friendship. But then the tattooed biotic _really_ thought about it.

The Normandy team from the Suicide Mission had already suffered three losses because of this damn war. Mordin Solus, their scientist Salarian, was the first to go, giving his life to cure the Genophage so the Krogan would join the war effort.

Frustrated sadness hit her when she read Garrus's message. All she could do was mutter "fuck" as she balled up her hands into fists she wanted to shove down the Reapers mechanical squid throats.

The next loss to hit the Normandy team was Thane Krios, the Drell assassin. Kepral Syndrome was going to take him sooner than all the others anyhow, yet during Cerberus's siege on the Citadel he rushed through war-torn streets to help Shepard defend the Salarian Councilor from a Cerberus assassin .

He managed to save the Councilor at the cost of his own life and died a hero in Jack's eyes.

_I don't know if the whole afterlife shit is real, but because you believed in it, Thane, I hope you did find the shores of the afterlife._ Had he been the last, Jack might not have frightened her students with a furious biotic punch that broke a weapons locker.

Unfortunately Thane wasn't the last.

Legion, the Normandy's resident Geth, sacrificed himself to grant the Geth true intelligence and achieve peace with the Quarian's.

_How many more fucking people are we going to lose?_ Her thought was what followed the weapons locker breaking biotic punch.

People she cared about were dying because of this stupid fucking war and there was nothing she could do about it. It was infuriating. Jack didn't do helpless. It was the worst feeling a person could have, yet that's all she could feel.

This war, it was like being back in the Teltin Facility. All she could do was continue to fight through the pain for the dream of freedom from this never-ending nightmare.

The anguish, the despair, it could be suffocating at times. Yet Jack wasn't going to quit. If Mordin, Thane and Legion didn't quit at the end of their lives, she couldn't either.

For her students, for her living friends, and for the memories of the ones who had sacrificed their lives for others to live, she would keep fighting until they won or she drew her last breath.

Jack had honored her fallen friends the only way she knew how: by crushing as many of the Reaper forces as she possibly could in their names.

She still couldn't believe they were gone. It wasn't that they all vid-called each other every chance they got after the team went their separate ways. But they had forged a bond in the fire of a suicide mission.

That bond made them closer than the average friend or comrade.

With that thought in mind she sent another message to Miranda.

_Right back at you, Cheerleader._

She never received a response back, though she also didn't expect one.

Neither would call the other a friend in open conversation—their pride and past hatred for one another wouldn't allow it—but in the quiet sanctuary of their minds they acknowledged that there was little else that could describe their relationship. A tolerated nuisance or rival was the closest they would ever get to saying it out loud, but both knew deep down those words were just another way to say friend.

Only once had they come close to fully acknowledging each other as such. It was during the party at the apartment after both Shepard and Kasumi teased them about there being sexual tension between them.

Why had those frustrating women thought that?

In Shepard's words, _"Honestly, I think it might help if you two just kissed and got it over with. I mean, this is all just sexual tension, right? Two powerful biotic's with forceful personalities who are confident in their sexuality. Sounds to me like the making of one of Kasumi's romance novels."_

Kasumi, who had been sneaking around the entire night by using her cloak, appeared leaning on the bar counter they were talking at._ "That's what I've been telling them, Shep. Maybe they'll listen to you because I'm ready to record. I'm pretty sure there's a market for this."_

She disappeared as quick as she had appeared with only Jack's threat following her. _"Kasumi, I will find you and I will hurt you badly!"_

Needless to say, Shepard and Kasumi could be an annoying pair when they were together, which happened to be almost all the time.

_Don't know why they're always giving us shit over the sexual tension. They practically wrote the book on sexual tension between teammates._

It took a moment, but the exact words of her previous thought finally registered.

Jack shook her head in the present as her face scrunched up in disbelief. _I did not just fucking agree to there being sexual tension between the Cheerleader and myself, because there fucking isn't any. We tolerate each other, that's it._

Regardless, Miranda had given her honest opinion about her growth after the pair left to cause trouble elsewhere.

* * *

"_All right, Jack," Miranda started in a confessional manor. "I hate to say it, but Cerberus was wrong about you."_

"_No shit,"_ _she replied dryly._

_Miranda rolled her eyes then continued, "You're still violent and maladjusted—"_

_**And you're still a bitch**__, she thought._

"—_but the Illusive Man would've never predicted you'd bond with the Grissom Academy kids. You are growing, despite everything Cerberus did to you. I find that…extremely admirable."_

_The honesty in her voice caught Jack off guard completely. Compliments and positive feedback never settled right with her. She felt awkward. Even more than usual due to the source this time._

_Was she supposed to offer a compliment back? Or was she just meant to thank her? The latter brought on a whole new problem. "Thank you" had never been prevalent in her dictionary—still wasn't._

_To be offered such a compliment from a woman who she had once wanted to kill—and who certainly wanted to do the same to her—only made this even more difficult for her to deal with._

_Was Miranda really being honest? Or was she just stroking her ego to open her up for a backhanded comment? That was their usual relationship even with Shepard trying to get them to become friendly. One of them threw a jab, the other jabbed back and they continued on until one of them faltered._

_It was fun._

_Jack examined the woman in her surprise and didn't see any of the familiar signs of a loaded jab waiting to be released._

_**She's…being honest?**__ Her internal surprise was replaced immediately by a groan of annoyance._

_**Damn you, Girl Scout. You really had to force us to soften up, didn't you? I still remember when she was an ice cold bitch and I was a fiery badass. Now we're here, sharing fucking drinks and talking like friends. Ugh. If you weren't needed to save the galaxy, Shepard, I'd kill you.**_

"_Wow. Thanks,"_ _she thanked, her voice wavering slightly because of how off-guard she was. Internally she flinched at the weakness in her voice. She had to rectify that immediately before the Cheerleader could use it against her. "I still really hate you, but you have fantastic tits."_

_Jack grabbed her alcoholic drink and drank from it, acting casually to hide the fact she was trying to wash those words out of her mouth. Of all the things she could have said, she praised the Cheerleader's tits? What the fuck? Sure her tits were pretty damn fantastic, but by saying that she made it known she examined them in the first place._

_Now that Miranda knew Jack was vulnerable to a future jab, and there was nothing she could do to change that. Saying more would only dig her grave further._

_The tattooed biotic wanted to slam her forehead against the bar counter for being so stupid. She couldn't, though. Doing that would only reveal the feelings of frustrated embarrassment she kept sheathed in darkness._

_**I could have said something about the way she left Cerberus or how she crushes people with biotic's or even just said her hair was nice, but no. I decided to say fuck it and go "you have fantastic tits" like all the men who drool as she walks by.**_

_This was all really Miranda's fault for wearing skin tight cat suits everywhere she went. Because of those outfits anyone who looked her way knew the shape of her breasts and bubbly butt even if they didn't want to._

_And so what she had stared at the raven-haired woman's tits and ass. It wasn't like it meant anything or that she did it all the time. If anything it was just appreciation of the woman's beauty._

_Jack's thoughts hit the skids as her last thought hit her. __**Where the hell did that come from?**_

_She shook her head internally and took another drink. __**Nope, I'm not thinking about it any longer, and I'm definitely not spending another second justifying my knowledge of the Cheerleaders tits and ass.**_

_This whole thought pattern was creating an awkward knot in her stomach. She just needed to get her mind as far away as possible from those thoughts and refocus on anything except what was below Miranda's neckline._

_**This awkwardness is your fault, Shepard and Kasumi. And I will make you two regret it**__, Jack promised._

_Much to her surprise, Miranda laughed jubilantly at the remark and let a smile pull onto her lips. "All right. I can live with that."_

* * *

The sound of a turret firing up to mow down Husks snapped Jack awake from her reverie. A sudden explosion shook the building, causing a bit of concrete dust from the ceiling to pour on the floor nearby.

She cast a wary gaze at it. _That's comforting._

Back ranks duty kept her and her students away from the major fronts of this war up until today. Now the entire galaxy was in this fight, buying time through an unwinnable conventional war so others could open up the Citadel—currently in orbit of Earth—and attach the Crucible to it to end this Reaper nightmare once and for all.

This last act of desperation to defeat the Reapers was all they had left. They knew it, the Reapers knew it. The only difference between them was the Reapers had unlimited resources and unlimited bodies to fight the war forever. That's how they pushed their way to the back ranks.

The Natural History Museum near Hyde Park in London was her current base. The fortified building had taken a beating since the Reapers had arrived; exhibits had been destroyed, some outer walls were barely holding together while others were completely gone.

Compared to other buildings, though, they were pretty damn well off. All that remained of some structures was rubble. Other streets were just scorched skeletal remains no one could recognize.

So far the museum was holding strong, mostly. But the strength of the building didn't stop soldiers from getting shot, mauled or blown up by Reaper forces. The Reapers helped create an entire wing dedicated to the wounded within the sturdiest area of the museum.

Unfortunately, despite the size, the medical wing was almost completely full of wounded soldiers from several nearby fallen bases, and it was only getting worse.

Haunting screams of agony echoed in the halls leading to the medical wing. Even worse unimaginable horrors awaited all those who entered it. Horrors only veterans of war understood.

Jack tried to keep her students away, all in an effort to shelter them from such a harsh reality that could turn even her stomach at its worst. However, sometimes the medics needed an extra set of hands, or soldiers needed help carrying the wounded.

Her kids were handling it well enough. But she could see in their eyes they weren't the same fresh faced students she met at Grissom Academy.

War changed people, yet war itself never changed.

_Maybe after this war is over they'll stop having to fight nightmare level shit and start worrying about getting laid or going to prom._ It was a hopeful thought. Jack knew better than to believe it.

None of her students would be the same after experiencing this. No one would.

"Ma'am, Reaper forces are surrounding us. What are we going to do?"

Jack looked to the arriving Rodriguez and Prangley. Her top students. De facto leaders of their class here to seek guidance and hope for this hopeless situation. Courage and fear battled for control in their eyes and in their hearts, the same struggle she was sure the rest of her students were going through.

Break time was over. It had barely been ten minutes.

Jack ignored the fatigue, her features and body language never revealing the honest exhaustion she hid. She placed her hands on her hips and hardened her gaze.

"Is that fear I hear in your voice, Rodriguez?" she asked rhetorically. "I thought I told you at Grissom Academy to take your balls out of your purse. Did they suddenly drop off after we kicked the last waves of Reapers straight back into the hole they crawled out of?"

Her female student smiled sheepishly. Jack wasn't done yet. She turned her eyes to the male of the pair. "What about you, Prangley? Did your balls fall off too? Do I need to strap you two back into your training bras then buckle you into your car seats to whip you into shape before I go kick some Reaper ass?"

"Maybe just Rodriguez," he offered, smirking slightly.

"Seems that way to me too," Jack stated.

"Screw you, Ma'am," Rodriguez fired back with a smile.

Jack allowed a small smirk curl onto her lips. "Now that's the Rodriguez I know. I'll tell you what we're going to do: We're going to keep hammering these Reaper assholes until they're crawling their way back into dark space, begging for the ass-whopping to stop. Sound good to you two?"

Both grinned and snapped salutes. "Yes Ma'am!"

The tattooed biotic nodded firmly at them and let her hands fall to her sides. "Good. Now go regroup with the others and start helping with anything you can. I'm talking barrier support, ammo refills, warp ammo conversions, anything that will give us an edge. And make sure you all keep your heads down. I don't want anyone getting wounded or stuck under husk bodies." Her eyes pinned to Rodriguez. "I'm talking about you, Rodriguez."

The teenage girl shrunk under her teachers gaze. "Sorry Ma'am."

"I'm not asking for an apology, Rodriguez, I'm asking you to watch your damn barriers. Got that?" Her student gave a sharp nod. "Good. Now go regroup with the others. I'm going to see what help I can give the guys up front."

Her students scurried off to follow their teacher's orders. Jack's eyes softened as she watched their backs until they disappeared out of sight.

_They'll be fine_, she assured herself.

After a deep breath, she hurried through the halls to the front barricade where the worst of the fight would take place.

Her students had each other to rely on. That would keep them alive.

_Just like it kept me alive on Shepard's team._

She couldn't stay at their sides and hold their hands forever. Her strength was needed at the frontlines of their base to keep the hordes from penetrating beyond their walls.

Determination filled Jack's being as the sounds of gunfire grew louder with each new, quicker stride. Adrenaline pumped through her body once more, and with it the fatigue faded away, renewing her energy better than a biotic ration bar.

The Reapers were _not_ going to penetrate this museum, and they certainly as shit were not going to win this war.

_Time to kick some ass._

Jack made it to the front barricade on the second floor of the museum, ducking into cover behind a wall nearby their main turret. A Major of the Alliance by the name of Shay manned it; he moved the thing on a dime, letting loose burst fire to mow down the Husks rushing the wall, shouting orders to allies or taunts to their enemies in his Irish accent.

Alongside Shay were a handful of Alliance soldiers she didn't know by name just by looking at their armored and helmeted bodies.

"Ha ha ha! You worms aren't even worth killing!"

She _did_ know that distinct, deep menacing laugh well. Nakmor Jav. An old and scarred male Krogan with a massive crimson-colored headplate.

Joining him, and appearing smaller in the Krogan's massive presence, was a black armored Quarian infiltrator named Ven'Rotha vas Qwib-Qwib. Rounds fired from his rifle toppled enemy after enemy, the forest green mask and glowing eyes behind it pivoting in synch with the weapon to cut down their enemies.

"Keep to cover and work together," the serene voice of Asari Justicar Ria ordered, moving down the hall, stopping now and then to kill enemies to relieve tension on pockets of combatants. Her noble white and blue armor stood out in the darkness, her purple tranquil features encouraging strength to all those she encountered.

She passed by Jack, crouching and pressing a steady and comforting hand on her jacket covered shoulder in greeting. The tattooed biotic nodded back.

Ria stood up, fired off a biotic attack then kept going. "We can keep these mindless hordes at bay. Remember your training. Don't act recklessly. Remember what you're fighting for. For your homeworlds!"

"For Tuchanka!" Jav roared.

"For Rannoch!" Ven'Rotha echoed.

"For Palaven!" the female flanged voice of Ravyn, a Turian Saboteur, called from the first floor and in their comm. The ringing rounds of her Mattock popped the heads of several Husks caught in her crosshairs.

Those between her shots met their end by the rapid fire of a Geth rifle. Glancing down over cover, scouting enemies and allies locations equally, Jack saw the giant red Geth Juggernaut she nicknamed Jugs.

Geth Unit: Juggernaut had been his introduction, but Jack wasn't about to waste her breath calling that out any time she needed him, and she wasn't going to call him Geth.

He deemed the nickname appropriate, and from there it stuck.

Positioned between Jav and Ven'Rotha, Jack equipped her Carnifex and prepared to attack. There were Husks crawling out of every open space imaginable as they rushed towards the hail of rounds being fired at them. A few Cannibals were among them with Marauders hanging back to buffer the others with armor and take precise shots at their enemies.

"What's the deal, Ven? I thought you'd have this handled already?" she teased their sniper.

"Contrary to popular belief, I am not a miracle worker," he retorted. "Besides, shouldn't you have smeared them all into the ground by now? Or are you waiting for dramatic effect?"

"Just want to let Ravyn get a few kills before I take them all again."

"Bite me, Jack," Ravyn chimed in over the sound of her Mattock.

Jack smirked and popped out of her cover to attack. She hurled a pull field down into a group of five Husks, ripping them in half. Their grey jaws hung open as their bisected bodies floated helplessly through the air.

"No thanks, I'm pretty sure Shay would rather do it instead." She took aim at a Cannibal and let loose several round into its ugly body, eliminating it before moving to her next target.

"Feckin' right I would."

"I do not believe it would be sensible to bite Ravyn-Saboteur, Shay-Major. Your teeth would likely shatter. Furthermore, it seems inappropriate you would desire to bite an ally when unit cohesion is necessary for success," Jugs stated.

"That's not the kind of biting they meant, Jugs," Ven tried to explain.

"I do not understand."

"When a female Turian and a human male like to spend a lot of time with each other—"

"They prefer it if old Krogan's mind their own business so they don't wake up with a Turian blade against their quad," Ravyn interrupted Jav.

"Ha!" Jav barked out a laugh. He ducked behind cover to eject his thermal clip. "I'd hear you coming. You Turian's have no stealth."

"Says the Krogan wrecking ball," Ravyn replied smoothly.

Jack chuckled as she took cover to eject her thermal clip. Ven joined her to recharge his shields, noticeably shaking his head in amusement.

They weren't the Normandy team, but they were good company. At the start they were just a bunch of strangers with their old Asari keeping them more or less professional. Jack broke the ice. Or, more accurately, she shattered it with a biotic shockwave.

"_What the hell is a Qwib-Qwib?"_

Ven's sigh of absolute defeat was telling. _"…Don't even get me started."_

_"Come on! It can't be that bad, Ven,"_ Ravyn tried to sound positive about it while masking a laugh.

_"Was your pilgrimage gift shitty or something?"_ Jack had asked.

_"No! I just…"_ The next sigh was amusingly tragic. _"Keelah, can we just change the subject?"_

_"It is an honorable ship, Ven,"_ Ria had soothed stoically.

_"Thank you, Justicar Ria."_

_"Yeah, the Justicar is right. It's an honorable ship…with a funny name,"_ Jav had jumped in, chuckling lowly as he finished his statement.

_"Really guys?"_

From then on everyone was free game for banter. Even the Justicar, who was no slouch in witty remarks. Fighting together, bantering, it created another set of bonds Jack never expected to have. But she was grateful to have it in this living nightmare.

"I still do not understand the various types of biting there seem to be," Jugs said in his flat, robotic voice.

"I'll tell you later, Jugs," Ven told him.

"Understood, Creator-Rotha."

"Ven, Marauder moving in at two o'clock," Ria ordered. Her body shimmered with biotic power. Then she let loose a pull field, ensnaring a group of four within she eliminated with bursts of fire from her N7 Valkyrie.

"I'll handle him."

"Ravyn, there's a group of armored Cannibals to your eight o'clock. Take them out."

"Yes Ma'am."

The fight seemed to go on for an eternity. Yet no matter how many they killed, more followed. More Marauders arrived to buffer their allies, laying down fire on the barricade in an effort to seal their deaths. Rounds whistled past Jack's head on numerous occasions. More pelted the concrete walls protecting them like invisible missiles.

It taxed the galaxy forces. These tougher enemies were making it closer and closer to the barricade. Jack and Ria—the two strongest biotics in the base—began relying more on ammo and less on biotic attacks, both beginning to feel the toll of the continuous battles on their bodies.

They needed to recharge. They needed a break.

Throughout it her students and other soldiers delivered ammo refills, ration bars for the hungry and provided barrier support before heading back into the safety of the museum.

In those small encounters Jack took time to bolster her students' confidence. Internally she worried their luck was running out. The enemy forces seemed to have no end.

_We're going to need some bigger guns if we're going to survive this._

"Is it just me or are these feckin' pricks getting closer?" Shay asked a question he already knew the answer to.

They were without a doubt getting closer.

"Stay focused, Shay. We just need to hold out for reinforcements," Ria said, her voice still serene despite the hell breaking loose around them.

Jack ducked back behind cover as her barriers dropped. "Hey Justicar, where the hell is that backup you said was on the way?" she asked over the roar of gunfire.

"They were in route. Ven, Jav, cover me. I'll see if I can get an ETA on their arrival."

"Got it," the pair answered in unison.

Ria took the breathing room granted by their barrage of rounds to duck back into cover and connect to her comm. "Talon Company, what's your status?"

Crackling gunfire and distant shouts of orders entered their comms.

The Justicar shook her head and tried again. "Talon Company, do you read me? We're in need of reinforcements. A large force of Reapers is attacking the Natural History Museum. We—"

"Harvester incoming!" Shay's shout was the only warning they had.

It came too late.

The wall of the front barricade exploded. Heat rushed over their bodies as debris and soldiers were sent flying in different directions like ragdolls.

Jack hurtled through the air, cracking back first into an unforgiving concrete wall, knocking the wind right out of her lungs. She could feel herself choking and gasping for air, but couldn't hear it. Persistent ringing attack her ears, drowning out all other sound.

The throw of the explosion sent her gun careening down the hall somewhere. She couldn't see where. Her vision blurred, thrown into a darkening haze of near unconsciousness as she struggled to catch her breath.

All around her she could see people running around in controlled chaos. Bodies laid motionless on the cold, stiff ground. Dead. Unconscious. She didn't know.

Jack grit her teeth together against the headache forming. All right. She wasn't dead. That meant lying around wasn't an option, otherwise she _would_ die.

Body check. Did a rib puncture a lung? No. Just hit hard enough to knock the air from her lungs and bruise her back.

Could she feel her fingers? Her toes? Her legs? Anything paralyzed and numb? Fingers twitched, toes curled, legs shifted against the hard ground. Good. She could move. Now she had to get up.

_Get up_.

Jack's body tremble as she pushed onto her hands and knees. Sore. Fatigued. Shocked by the explosion. Yeah, if she didn't get moving she was going to be dead weight _before_ she died.

"Shay!" Ravyn's voice barely registered in Jack's ears. She shook her head in an attempt to shake the cobwebs off. Her senses were tangled in a jungle of overgrown vines. "Shay is down! I need a medic! Jugs, left side, left side!"

The distressed voice of Ravyn cleared her senses. _Shit. What the hell happened to Shay?_ She got onto her feet in a low crouch, wincing as the world spun and her headache spiked. Grabbing at her head, the tattooed biotic tried to take in the scene through shaky vision.

Ven was laid out on his back. Ria knelt next to him, checking over his suit for ruptures while on her comm. "Talon Company, this is Justicar Ria. A Harvester has landed in front of the museum and our gunner is down. If you're hearing this, please hurry. We are running out of time."

_Damn it._ Jack's eyes darted towards the empty turret. Jav was already fighting again. Blood splattered over his face, whether or not it was his was another question entirely.

Other Alliance soldiers were between disoriented and returning to the fight, but their heavy weapon remained completely unmanned.

_Move. Move. Move. If you don't move to cover, you'll die like an idiot._

Drilled in instincts pushed her to stumble and scramble to cover next to the Krogan.

"Where's Shay?" she asked to Jav.

"Harvester's blast knocked him down there," Jav answered, his voice deep and unamused. "Ravyn and Jugs are protecting him, but they can't move him with all the Husks rushing them. We need someone down there to take them out and someone on the turret to take out the Harvester, but the Harvester has those soldiers pinned down."

The tattooed biotic glanced down to the gun again and noticed the soldiers huddling behind a slim wall of cover, unable to move as a hail of rounds silhouetted their position.

_Someone has to get on that gun, but anyone who does is going to be a target for the Harvester. _It was likely that person wasn't going to be walking out of this unscathed, if at all.

She shut her eyes and took a breath.

It'd be easier to let someone else do it and run away from responsibility. But those thoughts were the thoughts of her past self.

"_Apparently I'm dependable now. I blame you for this, Shepard."_

She really was different now. She couldn't and wouldn't run away to damn Shay, Ravyn, Jugs, her students or any of these soldiers, not when she could create a biotic barrier strong enough to make it to the gun.

Death was practically a guarantee, but that was fine. So long as her students and friends made it out of this alive, she'd consider it a worthwhile victory.

_Mordin, Thane, Legion, better make room for me. I'll be seeing you soon._

Jack's chocolate eyes burned with determination as they opened.

"I'm going to the gun. Think you can cover me, Big Guy."

Jav chuckled lowly. "Always knew you were the good kind of crazy. Go, I've got you covered. And if this is the end of you or me, then let us make it a glorious end!"

"Let's make it their end, Big Guy."

The Krogan grinned and nodded. He ejected his thermal clip, took a few steps back away from his cover then bellowed out a battle roar as he sprinted towards the edge, jumping down into hell without fear.

Jack erected a strong barrier and sprinted down the hall. The turret, she had to reach it. No matter what it took. No matter what it cost her.

Arms pumping, heart slamming, feet screaming, she ran.

"Jav?" Ravyn sounded confused.

"I've got these ones! Get yourselves to safety! For Tuchanka!" he roared.

"Don't you die on us, Old Man!"

A few rounds bounced off Jack's barrier, the force of them nearly knocking her down in her mad dash. She didn't let herself fall though. She kept herself on her feet, kept upright and kept moving.

Her right hand gripped the control of the turret first. She pulled her body into it, left hand gripping the other side as she spun the heavy weapon to sight down the hulking beast locking onto Jav.

"Let's go fucker," she murmured before pressing down on the trigger.

A blaze of rounds erupted from the turret, the rattling vibrations and loud roar like the trumpeting arrival of a god on the battlefield, sealing her fate to this path she had chosen.

The Harvester recoiled immediately. The heavy fire penetrated its thick armor to its fragile flesh beneath, clawing out monstrous shrieks of pain from the beast.

Jack didn't relent, and wouldn't until it was dead or she was.

Below her she could see Jav head-butting and shooting any and all who entered his path. Bloodrage induced roars and laughter echoed over the battlefield.

The Harvester recovered quickly. Seeking out the source of its pain, it's synthetic, glowing eyes locked directly onto Jack, aiming the heavy guns in its mouth onto her.

_Come on!_ A blue hue surrounded her body as she summoned the lasts of her strength into her biotic's. Right as the Harvester fired, she erected a biotic bubble big enough to encompass herself and the turret. Blast after blast the Harvester fired at her—none of them penetrated the barrier.

"Is that all you got?! Come on! Show me what you're made of!" she yelled.

"That's right! Just try and kill us!" Jav followed her shout with his own.

Despite her taunt, the strain to hold the barrier was immeasurable. Her amp was burning with the heat of a supernova, the fires of which were traveling down her spine and across the rest of her body, heating her up internally and externally.

Jack didn't care. All she cared about was protecting her comrades, her students and the people of this base.

_This pain is nothing!_

Another blast hit her barrier as she vented the heat sink of the turret, making her flinch in physical pain as the bubble faltered. _Fuck!_

She wasn't going to be able to keep this up at this rate, and the damn Harvester didn't even seem fazed by the rounds she had just filled it with.

With a glance she saw Ravyn hauling Shay's limp body back inside the building on her own. Jav continued to fight the unending hordes with Jugs.

_At this rate they'll overrun us and kill us all._ Jack growled and let fury consume her being at the thought of her students dying.

_I don't care if I live or die. They will not hurt my kids!_

"I will destroy you!" she shouted as she unleashed another barrage of rounds and reinforced her barrier through sheer furious will.

"That's right, kid! Get angry and show these worms what you're made of!" Jav coached. "Make them regret ever stepping foot in your line of sights! Rarrggh!" The Krogan charged headplate first through a group of Husks, knocking them down like a bunch of bowling pins.

At the sound of her struggle, Ria rushed over to her side. She glowed with a biotic aura before placing her hands out to strengthen the bubble surrounding Jack.

"Talon Company, what is your location? We need backup _now_!"

"We're only thirty seconds away, just hold on," a male human voice answered. "Gallick, we're going into hell! Get ready to light up the squishy bastards!"

"Don't have to tell me twice, Ghost!" a Batarian voice followed.

"Thank the Goddess," Ria muttered under her breath.

"Justicar, have your Krogan pull back," the voice of a male Turian entered the comm. "We're going to blast that Harvester into oblivion."

"Understood. Jav, pull back! Reinforcements are almost here!"

"But I was just starting to have fun!" the Krogan mocked a whine, accenting his point by grabbing and head-butting a Husk as hard as he could.

"Now, Jav! Jack, Ven, cover his retreat."

Jack turned her attention to the enemies surrounding the Krogan and began shredding them with volleys of rounds. Her eyes were wide in furious adrenaline and pure agony. The fires from her amp made every inch of her feel as if she was being cooked from the inside out.

Blast after blast, the Harvester continued to fire at her bubble. Thirty seconds. She just had to last thirty more seconds and then it would no longer exist.

_Come on you bastards! Give me everything you've got!_

Thirty seconds felt like an hour. By the time they were up, both Ria and Jack's strength were fading away. Jav and Jugs retreated back into the building with their help, but their enemies were as persistent as ever.

The biotic sphere was collapsing on itself, and as it did the turret overheated again. Ria's knees buckled under her, bringing her into a kneeling position, yet she still kept her hands held out to maintain the barrier with strain etched into her features. Sheens of sweat covered both of their overheating bodies.

They were at their limits. The next blast from the Harvester would surely take them both out.

This was it.

"Talon Company…" Ria groaned through the pain they were suffering.

"Light 'em up Talons!" the human male, Ghost, yelled.

An explosion of red engulfed the hulking beast. The following shockwave cascaded over the entire field of battle; the tremors rocked through the street, up the deteriorating walls of the museum and rattled her bones.

It was fucking beautiful.

Ria collapsed backwards and dropped the barrier. The tattooed biotic's numb hands didn't release the gun controls, her body leaning forward into the gun as she breathed heavily.

Through hazy vision she witnessed two trucks speed onto the scene, bringing with them an impressive hail of gunfire that tore shrieks and cries out of the Reaper forces. One of the trucks turned, drifting across the pavement to plow over several Husks before inevitably stopping in front of the museum.

Ten points for a great entrance. A million for saving their asses.

On top of the truck was a mounted gun, manned by a Batarian smoking a cigarette. He wasted no time in unleashing hell on all the Husks and Cannibals in his way. The other truck had a group of soldiers huddled in the bed, she could see. It, too, had a mounted weapon, manned by a human wearing a hooded outfit.

Whoever these guys were, they had her gratitude. She owed them big time.

A three fingered hand grabbed Jack by the wrist. Slowly, it peeled her hands off the controls, pulling her arm around the back of their taller neck to brace her dead weight.

"You hanging in there, Jack?" Ravyn's voice reached her ears.

"Never…better."

The words were hard to form. Hanging in there, sure. But barely. Her head spun and hurt. Her body ached and burned. Not even the Collector Base bubble had been this bad.

Yet the pain was also numbing. She could feel unconsciousness closing in around her as voices and gunfire sounded submerged in an ocean. Her thoughts trailed to her students and their well-being as the darkness consumed her vision.

_They'll be fine,_ she assured herself again. They'd stick together and survive no problem, especially with the reinforcements that just arrived.

All they had to do was hold out until the Girl Scout won this war.

_Counting on you, Girl Scout. Make sure you end this once and for all._

She believed in Shepard fully. The N7 had never once let her down or made her regret placing trust in her. Now would be no different.

Her thoughts trailed across all of her friends, reminiscing on the small things; giving Shepard the Greek Omega symbol tattoo on her waist above her left leg; playing cards with Zaeed; Grunt's Rite of Passage; dancing on the table at the party with the others.

These small, precious memories with all of them she had managed to experience without the burdens of pain granted her a semblance of peace as everything was slowly growing dark and silent.

Before the lights went out, icy blue eyes paired with a genuine smile flashed before her eyes followed by the one laugh she had ever managed to hear from the woman. The sight and sound made a smile unconsciously form on her lips.

_For such an icy bitch, you had a nice laugh and smile. I wish I could have seen you do it more often…because I don't hate you like I used to._

_You stopped trying to be the Illusive Man's little lap dog and this personification of perfection that was above everyone else. Instead you did your best to grow as a person and become something close to normal after all the shit you went through…just like I did._

Jack frowned as the darkness neared. Why did she have to realize this stuff right as the end was coming?

_This would have been more meaningful to say than complimenting her tits. But…letting go of my pride and showing weakness isn't something I'm good at. In a way, you managed to grow just a little more than I did, Miranda._

Miranda's smile flashed in her mind's eye again.

_Despite what we ever said out loud, we actually knew the ins and outs of each other's personalities really well…and that smile of yours isn't just because I said you had nice tits. I wonder…I wonder if you knew what I really wanted to say._

_I hope you did._

Everything went black.

* * *

_A/N: This is a side-story to my Stolen Hearts story, taking place alongside the original but through Jack's, Miranda's and a few others new perspectives with new scenes not seen in Stolen Hearts. If you want to read about Shepard and Kasumi's love story then Stolen Hearts and Stolen Hearts: Untold Tales are the places to go, but it's not a requirement to read first, especially if you don't want spoilers on where this story goes and ends. Anyway, thank you for reading!_

_I do not own the Mass Effect series nor do I make any profit off of the writing of this fanfiction, outside of personal enjoyment. The copywrites, the series itself and everything Mass Effect belong to Bioware and EA._


	2. Chapter 2: End of the Nightmare

Chapter 2

The End of the Nightmare

The Natural History Museum was nothing short of a disoriented mess when Talon Company arrived on the scene. Reaper forces were crawling out everywhere, climbing up walls, dashing across the street, shrieking monstrously as heavy gunfire mowed them down.

A goddamned nightmare turned reality, that's what this war had become.

Allied soldiers were left scrambling. Several lifted their wounded up into a fireman's carry to haul them further inside their base, sprinting back to the line as soon as they were able to join the counterattack. The few capable took up their positions to recapture their line of defense on the wall.

By the time the N7 Special Operations squad finished mopping up their enemies, the museum forces were almost coordinated.

Almost. That was a word that only counted when it came to grenades and asteroid drops.

Gallick—the sole Batarian of Talon Company—had not been surprised by the disorganization the Harvester left behind. He'd seen the destruction caused by those worm-neck bastards all throughout the war; heavy casualties followed them everywhere they went, and those who survived were left behind for the smaller forces to finish off.

Frankly, the museum forces were lucky Talon Company stopped by to kick ass, given their distinct lack of tanks and heavy weaponry.

At that time, the final push had been imminent. All of the Milky Way's forces were gathered together in orbit or on the ground fighting the Reapers, buying time with bullets or their lives. Sometimes both. Some just decided to eat their own bullet over dying by Reaper claws or succumbing to indoctrination, and Gallick couldn't blame those poor souls.

Bad enough these freakish monstrosities existed, but they also had mind control?

What happened to the old days of war when it was just the young being sacrificed by old men pulling strings? That's how he got started. Back then he was a young hotshot brat, fully assured in his invincibility and drugged with bullshit patriotism like a good little pawn.

One day changed that. One day when everyone except him died.

Now they were fighting moving skyscrapers; part organic and part synthetic beings that were capable of twisting allies into enemies just by being in the same area.

_I'm getting to old for this shit_, Gallick decided as he strode through the darkened halls towards the main barricade.

In a war of this kind, the Crucible was their only real option. The Prothean super weapon was their final hope. Their _only_ hope of winning.

Conventional war and tactics were as useful as tits on a Hanar against these beings of immense power. And tits on a Hanar wouldn't bear any similarity to an Asari Matriarch's massive, natural bust all but bursting the buttons out of her top. It'd flop around with their jelly bodies, dangling like a cow utter and glowing with bioluminescence—a real libido killer.

Hanar tits aside, conventional war against the Reapers ended one way: Harvested. Their cycle, like all the previous cycles before them, would be harvested and used to make more of their enemies, bolstering their forces for the next cycle to be destroyed by.

Gallick shrugged off the thought and stepped out into what was left of the hall used as the main barricade.

What was left, he had a feeling that'd be common phrase in the coming days.

Few walls were intact. Shards of concrete littered the floor beneath his armored boots, joined by discharged thermal clips yet to be cleaned up and discarded weapons. He kicked a shard of concrete out the brand new giant window for the museum, courtesy of the Reaper Harvester who had come to kill them. It was almost like a whole new exhibit.

The old Batarian chuckled darkly, stepping over a thick, jagged and cracked piece of the old wall.

Below, the deserted civilian street turned battlefield was littered with familiar scars of a firefight; chipped asphalt and bullet littered walls, destroyed vehicles charred by explosions and the ashes of incinerated enemies were sprinkled around like a seasoning.

_Quiet_, he noted. No soldiers running along the walls, no enemies rushing the line or lurking in the darkness as far as his three remaining eyes could see. There wasn't even the sound of anti-air fire or regular small arms fire in the distance.

Silence. Peaceful silence. It was a sound he deeply missed.

_So, it wasn't a dream. The nightmare war is finally over._

Opening a small compartment on his armor, Gallick pulled out his lighter and cigarette pack. This was his first chance since coming to Earth to smoke without getting his ass shot off by indoctrinated Cerberus forces or clawed at by some freak of nature. A monumental occasion, in other words, and one he planned to take his time savoring.

The old Batarian took a quick stock of his remaining cigarettes, counting four before removing one and placing it between his lips. He'd have to ration them better after today. At least until he found more, which he would.

But that was an important mission for later. Right now his main objective was to enjoy his first post-war cigarette in a Reaper absent galaxy.

After placing the pack back, he flipped open his lighter to light the cigarette. Old-fashioned, he knew. He could just as easily program a flame on his omni-tool if he wanted and save himself the trouble of carrying a lighter.

Simpler? Sure. But this old, scratched and abused lighter had been with him since his first war. He couldn't part from it.

Gallick flicked it once and received sparks but nothing else. He flicked it again and received the same result, causing him to frown down at the item.

_Damn thing must be almost empty._

Not willing to give up on this occasion, he flicked it one last time and was rewarded for his persistence. An orange flame ignited, illuminating his weathered grey features and scarred upper left eye in the darkness of Earth's early morning.

Once lit, he took a long, satisfying drag. _Ah, much better._ Gallick exhaled the smoke with a pleased smile and stuffed his lighter back in his compartment.

The war was over, truly over. It hadn't begun to feel real yet. Still didn't even as he looked out at the darkened horizon and listened to the beautiful sound of silence.

_Been a long ride._ He brought the cigarette back to his lips and continued to smoke peacefully for what felt like the first time in his life. Maybe it was.

War. Leading a resistance. Mercenary life. War again. He hadn't had much time for peaceful smokes over the years, but maybe that was changing. Maybe this would be his last war. Maybe he'd be able to peel this armor off, hang up his guns and live peacefully.

Maybe.

This last war had been different than his previous experiences. The size disparity changed things, obviously, but it went beyond that. This war stretched the entire galaxy, and it went on for months. Several long months of uncertainty and guaranteed extinction upon failure.

Past wars had lasted years, certainly, but none racked up this kind of body count. None afflicted every person's life with destruction and suffering. The toll was greater. Hopelessness was abundant.

Standing here now, Gallick felt like he lived an entire Asari lifetime over the last several months, only he didn't gain regal looks and supple breasts.

Bruises and joint pain made his body ache. His armor seemed heavier. _I feel like an old man_, he thought as he rolled his sore shoulder a few times. _I can't even remember the last time I was able to sit down and have a good drink._

Although he could recall Talon Company taking shore leave at some point recently, it was all a blur thanks to the war. That or he drank more than he thought.

It was hard to say. Uncut Batarian ale had been flowing that night, and Batarian ale was his second love. His wife was his first.

The war battered everyone mentally, emotionally and physically. They hadn't known when or _if_ this godless war would ever end, which left them wholly unprepared for its sudden and epic conclusion.

N7 Special Operation Unit designated as Talon Company, better known as the N7 Talons to the resistance, were called to join the final push before their detour to the Natural History Museum.

Their original plan consisted of arriving, kicking ass and then driving off to march into guaranteed hellfire with their guns blazing, joined by whatever forces Admiral Anderson scrounged together.

Just another day in the office of warfare. Same shit, different war.

That plan lost its legs when it ran over a mine known as the Natural History Museum. Two of the biotic powerhouses aiding the museum forces were down; the human of the pair was unconscious with a bloody nose while the Justicar could barely stand on her own two feet.

Overused biotic's. He'd only ever seen it in this war. Cases were as abundant as bullet wounds. Who knows how long they had been fighting before the Harvester showed up to put sprinkles on their fatigue pastry.

Gallick exhaled smoke from his nose, suddenly annoyed. _I want a damn pastry now._

Even old Batarian's could have a sweet tooth.

He tapped his cigarette unconsciously to knock some ash off, shaking off his craving.

_I'm not surprised by Justicar Ria's strength. Justicar's are feared for a reason._ Hell, even _he_ feared Justicars, and he didn't even flinch against most Reaper forces. They were top tier warriors, more powerful than the average soldier or mercenary and bearing an unbreakable conviction to their code that most people couldn't hope to have.

The human's potential did surprise him. _I've never met a human with that much biotic power before, and I've killed plenty of them._ Blue Suns mercs, biotic extremists, Eclipse mercs; they could be problematic, but never had any of them been on that human's crazy level of power.

Losing the strength of Jack and Justicar Ria, along with Shay—the highest ranking Alliance soldier in the museum—was a heavy blow to their strength and morale. But that wasn't the end of their problems. Several newly wounded were added to the overcrowded medical wing, their main wall took severe damage and fatigue was transforming into doubt.

In the words of his old drill instructor, _"Weak morale and doubt will put a bullet in your skull before I do."_

_What a prick_, Gallick thought, placing his cigarette between his lips again.

The fate of the museum team would be grim. They'd have to be the luckiest bastards in the galaxy to survive until the war ended, but even lady luck rolled her eyes at that possibility.

Brad, one of the human members of the N7 Talons, liked to say luck in the war was like a unicorn: it was worth _a lot_ of credits if you could capture it; the only problem was it didn't exist.

Strange as the human phrase was, it accurately described the situation the museum forces were in. They were in desperate straits, on the brink of collapsing. _Then we saw their last line of defense._

Gallick exhaled smoke and flicked another ash off the end of his cigarette.

Frightened teenagers were all that stood between the wounded and a Reaper assault entering the museum. The stronger ones maybe had an extra five minutes to survive. The weaker and easily scared had about a minute, if they were lucky.

And luck was like a unicorn, whatever the fuck that was.

As a veteran of two wars—including the Reaper War—and as a survivor of betrayal, Gallick had long given up on painting optimism on the walls. War purged the innocent and forged warriors in volcanic fire without mercy.

_I know we were desperate for fighters, but human teenagers on the battlefield?_

According to them they were in the back ranks as support. According to reality the back ranks were no longer back ranks. The lines had shifted, changed, and if the N7 Talons didn't stay, the museum and all its occupants would suffer.

Gallick and Darian—the biotic Turian second-in-command of their team—had flanked their leader on his sides as they took in the situation at hand.

"_We have teenagers running around, an entire wing of wounded plus soldiers with low morale. This is a massacre waiting to happen," Gallick said, his tone grim. "Look at some of them. They're already sure they're going to die."_

"_According to the teenagers, they're a support team in the back ranks. Which means this sector used to be out of the main combat zone," Darian explained. "Problem is these aren't the back ranks anymore. They're right in the middle of this Spirit-forsaken mess."_

"_Let's find the next in line of command and see if they can handle this mess," Ghost said._

While they searched for someone in charge, the other five members of their eight man ground team watched the perimeter with their guns at the ready. The next strike could come at any given moment. It could be larger than the last, could be smaller. Taking their eyes off the field of battle for one moment could be disastrous.

In this war there was no time for complacency or bad decisions.

Unfortunately, the next in line of command was a jumpy Alliance soldier who wanted to evacuate the museum immediately. In a different war and at a different time it would have been a feasible, intelligent decision. Sometimes retreat was necessary, even if it never felt good.

In this war, however, the idea was ridiculous. No shuttles were readily available and the two trucks the N7 Talons had arrived in were barely big enough to fit the eight of them. Their only hope was refortifying their position and holding the line here.

Yet the man stood firmly by his idiotic idea.

Ghost made his decision then and there. _"You," he pointed to the Alliance soldier, "consider yourself relieved of duty. I'm in charge of this operation now." He turned to the Turian of the group without missing a beat. "Darian, I want you to take stock of all remaining ammo, medi-gel, rations and total amount of wounded. I want your report as soon as you can give it."_

"_You got it, Ghost," Darian said as he dismissed himself._

_Ghost turned to Gallick next, his purple eyes stone serious. "Gallick, inform the guys we're staying then get the perimeter ready for another wave. Get the turrets refilled, refortify what you can and get anyone who isn't fit for duty off that wall."_

"_I will."_

From then on it was their show. They took up defensive positions, got everyone to fall in line and defended the museum from waves of Reapers ranging from Husks to Banshees.

Not a single Reaper minion entered the museum. Together they held their enemies off until the Crucible fired, ending the war with a giant red tsunami wave of energy cascading across Earth and then the entire Milky Way.

None of the Reapers survived. Capital ships toppled over, destroyed and inactive. Reaper ground forces were incinerated upon contact with the strange red energy. All that remained in the aftermath was a profound silence.

Slowly, the N7 Talons stood up from their cover, shoulder to shoulder with their weapons lowered in awe, each seeking confirmation to the question they all wondered: Was it all over?

Did Commander Shepard end this forsaken war?

Finally the silence was broken by a roar. This roar was different than all the roars that had come before it during the nightmare war. It was not a roar like the ones that had come to haunt the waking and sleeping hours of adults and children equally, nor was it one of painful sorrow caused by the loss of a loved one.

It was a triumphant roar, one made up of swelled up positive emotions summed up by a single word.

"_Victory!" Ghost cheered._

The cheer awoke every soldier from their awed stupor. Some soldiers raised their rifles as they cheered; others let them slide out of their hands as they collapsed to their knees in a mixture of happiness, exhaustion and shock. Many of them latched onto whoever was closest and let loose their tears of joy without restraint.

Wordless cheers and infectious laughter resounded within the halls of the museum, but eventually they found a name to attach their happiness to. A name they all owed their lives to.

Shepard.

From the very start of the war she was the paragon they all looked towards for hope and guidance. Even as they stood there completely unaware of how she pulled it off, they all knew it was her who had made the impossible possible.

She was the tip of the spear. The light of hope that burned brighter than every star in the galaxy combined.

As for Gallick, well, he allowed a solemn smile to curl onto his lips as he watched the celebrations. This war had brought so many people pain and suffering. It had taken loved ones from their grasps and, for people like him, it had forced them to be entire systems apart from their significant others at all times.

Ending the war was wonderful, but post-war was by no means an end to losing loved ones or the end of work. From his experience, it was only the beginning of the latter and a mid-point for the former.

Massive repairs waited for them. Peace would need to be kept. The injured required medical attention…and their medical supplies were limited.

They couldn't save everyone. It was the harsh reality of war. A harsh reality the old Batarian couldn't bring himself to announce to the others.

Everyone deserved their moment of celebration, absent of the fears plaguing them since the war began. Work could wait, at least for a little while.

Still, he couldn't help but feel they lost the galaxies greatest hero at the end of it all. The veteran had seen enough war-hero stories to know how Commander Shepard's story ended. People like her were one-of-a-kind, on and off the battlefield.

A person of her genuine character, of her heroics, they put their soul into fulfilling their mission…and once they succeeded, their time was up.

Legends never lived to see the good they left behind. They didn't get the happy ending; life wasn't some kids story. Legends didn't get to run off into the sunset, find love, get married, have kids and die of ripe old age. That was fantasy. Fallacy. Bullshit.

Legends had one of two fates. They could refuse death and survive long enough to witness everything they fought for be destroyed by politics, like Gallick. Or they gave their lives so others could live in peace, passing on from this life into the next in search of the peace this life refused to give them, like Shepard.

_I hope you find your peace, Commander Shepard._ He smirked. _Check the bar. If it's anything like Omega's Afterlife, there'll be uncut alcohol, half naked women and a whole bunch of bad decisions waiting to be made._

Anything less would be dull.

The old Batarian snorted to himself and took a short drag of his cigarette.

One full day passed since the end of the war. Work did eventually continue, hampered by the immediate blast of the Crucible shutting down most tech like an EMP blast.

Slowly but surely the techies were getting shit back online, but it'd take more time and cross-species cooperation; luckily they had garnered a wealth of both.

Funny how near eradication of a civilization could get people's heads out of their asses. Or funny to his morbid sense of humor anyway.

Comms were screwed at long-range, though that was less to do with the Crucible and more to do with the comm satellites being a prime target for the Reapers. He felt bad for the poor son of a bitch who was going to have to dangle out in space to fix them—probably a Salarian.

Without long-range comms, everything outside of London was dark to those within the city. Add in several sectors simultaneously attempting to check in, flooding their limited satellites, and the whole thing became a clusterfuck of chaos.

The Citadel hadn't fared well from what he had seen in their first daylight hours of post-war. Gallick wasn't an expert engineer, but he was pretty sure a detached arm was a bad thing.

_The power of the Crucible wrecked it. Probably wrecked the Relays too._ He didn't know that for sure yet, but he had a gut feeling he was right.

One major consequence of the Crucible being fired he did know of was the total deactivation of the Geth. So far, any and all attempts to bring their synthetic comrades beings back online ended in complete failure. In spite of that the Quarian Ven'Rotha continued to try to fix the one called Jugs.

Gallick wished him luck in his efforts.

As the Batarian lifted what was left of his cigarette back up to his lips, he heard the footsteps of another approach him from behind. Glancing over his shoulder, his three eyes met the purple eyes of his leader.

"Ghost," he greeted.

"Just checking in. You good?"

Gallick could hear his silent question beneath it loud and clear. Did he want company? Or did he prefer silent solitude to decompress?

He waved the young human over, beckoning him to join him as he replied, "Yeah, I'm good."

A few lingering worries pestered him, but he'd be fine.

Ghost joined him at his side, clad in his usual armor. On top he wore a white armored tank top, the hood of which he wore up to hide the majority of his features beneath the shadow it casted. His purple eyes practically glowed beneath like some sort of demon.

It paid off in interrogations.

The entire length of his forearms were covered by two black gauntlets while the upper portion of his arms were covered by solid, yet flexible, bicep guards. On his lower half he dressed in black armor padded clamdiggers and black boots.

His weapons remained on his person; two pistols—one M-11 Suppressor and a dark purple Executioner Pistol—and a Black Widow sniper rifle on his back.

Those paid off in the war.

Ghost had been leading the N7 Talons since before they had even become known as the N7 Talons. He was the founder of the team. Without him, those among the crew wouldn't have ever become anything more than cannon fodder grunts for mercenary leaders to send in when shit got tough.

Each member of the team was an outcast from their own people. Whether it was because they abandoned their military or because they were among a society who shunned biotic's, they had long been disowned. Not even among mercenaries did they have a home.

Alone they were rudderless. They went where the wind took them with no real control of their own lives or real purpose for living. Some of them feared that the most.

Without purpose, without a home, what point did they have in living?

Ghost gave them a home where they were welcomed with open arms regardless of their origins. On The Setting Sun—their ship—they found a sense of belonging and family, and with Ghost's guidance they changed from Blue Sun lackeys, to powerful and feared mercenaries and finally into respected war-heroes.

Their journey hadn't been full of sunshine and rainbows. The Blue Suns betrayal and subsequent loss of dear friends left a scar on each and every single one of them; it was a moment Ghost had never forgiven himself for, and Gallick doubted his friend ever would.

_Hard to believe it's been ten years since the Blue Suns betrayed us._ Gallick shook his head and placed his cigarette between his lips. "It's been one hell of a ride, Ghost."

"Heh," his leader breathed out a laugh and let his lips curl up into his signature smirk Carefree. Amused. Downright cheeky. "You're telling me, Gallick. If anyone would have told me this is where I'd be back when I was still living in that shithole apartment with Darian on Omega, I probably would have punched them square in the jaw for taunting me with a better life."

Ghost let out a sigh and stared out at the dark horizon. "Can't believe how much time has passed since then. When Darian and I set out to better our lives from the dismal poverty we were drowning in, I truly never expected anything like this. I mean, people call us war-heroes." He chuckled in his disbelief and shook his head. "Shit, that still doesn't sound right. I'm just some insignificant kid from the slums of Omega, not a hero."

"No one could have expected to fight a war against Reapers. Even my worst nightmares weren't this bad. But you haven't been some insignificant kid from Omega's slums for a long time," Gallick said, exhaling smoke as he did. He then met his leader's eyes with a meaningful expression. "You've changed lives, Ghost. Our lives. Without you, this crew doesn't exist."

An appreciative smile formed on Ghost's lips. "And without you guys I'd have no reason to live."

He waved his cigarette hand through the air. "Ah, don't be so sensitive. You know I can't stand all that mushy shit you and Tara do."

"Heh, you started it, you tough bastard."

Gallick let out a humorous chuckle then brought his cigarette back up to his lips. True, he had started it. But his words needed to be said.

When people looked at figureheads like Commander Shepard and Ghost, they didn't see the person behind the armor or hood. They saw the war-hero diving in to save a company of soldiers. They saw the icon leading the charge; the unbreakable warrior no force could shatter.

People began to see them as extraordinary beings capable of moving mountains with sheer force of will. Gallick understood the need. In war, whether against Reapers or any other group, soldiers needed people to look to for guidance, to latch their hopes onto so they could believe everything was all right.

Long ago he had been that man. The problem was the more extraordinary you became, the less weakness you could show. And everyone had a breaking point.

Everyone. No exceptions.

Some, like Ghost and Shepard, could hold out longer than anyone else because of their strong wills. But even the strongest willed individuals aren't meant to carry the burdens of everyone's hopes on their shoulders alone.

Fortunately for Ghost he had a group of friends he could take his hood off around and be the man hiding behind the name Ghost. He could let his doubts, fears, and pain be known and not face judgment for it.

Gallick didn't have that all those years ago. He didn't have a crusty old veteran to teach him from past mistakes, or a best friend to lean on, or a lover to hold him close. He carried his burden alone, and that attributed to his inevitable fall from grace.

Still, he was damn proud to be a part of the circle that kept this heroic kid alive.

Supportive words weren't his strength, though. He usually offered emotional support through pats to the shoulder and silent nods to let the person know he had their back, no matter what. It was just his way. He was an old soldier, one who had seen more bloodshed and death than he wanted to remember. It had hardened him with a material stronger than Reaper armor.

Yet, despite his rough experiences, he was also an old soldier lucky enough to still have something precious to fight for. One of those causes was standing next to him, his worried eyes betraying his carefree body language.

Clearly his work was not yet done.

"How are you holding up, Ghost?" he asked. His leader wasn't one to reminisce about his past life without reason. Something was bothering him, something that did not lie in the past or in regards to how others saw him.

"Honestly?" The Batarian nodded. "Worried as hell about Carson, Valera and the rest of The Setting Suns crew. I know comms are shit and it's only been a day, but I would fight another wave of Reapers just so I could hear that they're okay."

"I'd fight two," he agreed.

Their Turian and Asari pilots, as well as the crew of The Setting Sun, had used their ship to defend the Crucible rather than fight on the ground. The last contact they received from the ship was that they were pulling back with Admiral Hackett.

Ever since then they hadn't heard anything from their friends. No partial message. No call. Nothing. Just an unsettling silence the eight members of the ground squad didn't know what to do with.

Normally this was the kind of conversation Gallick would leave to Tara; the Asari Valkyrie had been Ghost's lover for years now. But Valera was her sister.

She was worrying just as much as Ghost, if not more.

"They'll be fine. Don't worry about them," Gallick said.

He took a final drag of his cigarette then blew an O-ring into the air.

The sight made his leader release a small chuckle. "How the hell do you do that?"

The Batarian offered him a sly smile. "Years of practice." He dropped his smile for an earnest stare and flicked his finished cigarette down to the street below. "You made the right call sending them to join Sword. Carson and Val are incredible pilots. Trust their abilities. If we survived an impossible war on the ground then they'll do the same up there." He shook his head and finished with, "Don't kill yourself with worry."

His leader dipped his head in a small nod of understanding. "True enough. But the same goes for you." Ghost leveled him with a serious stare. "Even if you never admit it, I know underneath that armor that you are agonizing about your wife.

"Your decision to move her from the Citadel to Omega after the Cerberus coup was the best decision you could have made for her safety. If you hadn't then she'd have been on the Citadel when the Reapers captured it. Right now she's safely guarded by Nyreen's Talon mercenary gang."

Ghost was right, he would never admit it out loud, but his thoughts often revolved around his wife during the war and now after it. He missed her. The war had kept them apart, save for a few moments he kept at the front of his mind and close to his heart.

But despite the distance that the war had put between them, he was thankful to have moved her to Omega before the Citadel had been captured. If he hadn't…well, he probably would have been wasted on worry instead of barely tipsy on it.

Her chance of survival was far higher now, and that meant he couldn't start drowning himself in sorrow and good Batarian ale. He had to be patient and stay focused so he could one day hold her in his arms again. Until that day came, he would continue to work to make that future a present reality.

_I will see her again._ It was a promise he would keep himself no matter how long it took for it to come true. Even if he had to fight through several waves of Reapers to reach her, he would.

She was worth it.

In response to his silence, Ghost continued. "Trust me, she'll be fine. Only a giant Reaper could stop her from staying alive long enough to see you again, and those bastards are dead."

"My credits would be on her ripping the Reaper in half," he said, smiling fondly as he did.

_I guess he wasn't the only one in need of support._ Gallick hadn't even realized how far his spirits had fallen until he felt them rise again like a phoenix from its ashes. Another reminder of why he chose to follow this human.

This selfless kid didn't just care about their combat abilities or think of them as tools of war. He cared about them as people, as comrades, as friends.

"It's been an honor fighting at your side, Ghost."

"Likewise, Gallick."

The conversation lulled into comfortable silence, but that was fine. Both warriors said what they needed to. Now they could enjoy the comfort of their own thoughts while they watched the darkened horizon start to lighten from black to a dark blue as the sun began its ascent.

Several minutes of silence passed with the two friends simply absorbing the peace and quiet they had long forgotten. Eventually, though, Ghost pat him on the back, announcing his departure before the rest of his body had turned to leave.

He didn't get far. A new voice and feet slamming against the floor at a breakneck sprint caused him to pause in his departure.

"Ghost!"

"Tara? What— whoa! Hey!" The dark blue skinned Asari tackle hugged the man, nearly knocking him off his feet and off the balcony.

Gallick tilted his head to the side in confusion at her sudden entrance. She didn't see the gesture of confusion, neither did Ghost. The man struggled to keep his footing on the displaced concrete shards around him.

Tara bore red markings on her face similar to the Asari Councilors, and although no one could see it now thanks to her armor, she also had a back tattoo that peaked out on her shoulders colored the same as her markings.

Because she had buried her face into her lover's chest as she practically crushed him in half with her bear hug, the Batarian couldn't make out any of her features to judge what exactly brought this on

He could only think of two scenarios. One of them was wonderful and would keep the spirits of the N7 Talons higher than the tallest of the Reapers. The other…the other would tear down the two people standing next to him down deep into a Batarian prison of anguish.

"Tara, what's going on? Are you okay?" Ghost questioned worriedly.

Before she answered, Darian entered their hall at jog, penetrating steel blue eyes accented by the black tattoo markings on his light complexion.

Neither his avian features nor his eyes provided a hint as to what kind of news to expect. Regardless, Gallick nodded silently to him in greeting, receiving one in return before the Turian second-in-command returned his eyes to his leader.

The action did little to stop the knot of fear from forming in his gut.

_Tara and Darian running to find Ghost at the same time?_ The Batarian didn't like it. There was a possibility that they were both here with good news, but it didn't seem likely that they both would have come running with the same news.

Good or bad, something was going on that needed Ghost's immediate attention.

Ghost seemed to be of the same mind based on his features changing from worry to utter seriousness. "Trouble?" he asked to the Turian.

"I'm…not sure how to tell you this, Ghost." Darian brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck; his signature tell for incoming bad news or personal nervousness.

The area his hand went to was once the home of his removed Blue Suns tattoo. Every member had removed it after the betrayal—all of them except Ghost. He kept his as a reminder of his past, a reminder of what he considered his failure.

Seeing Darian rub the area where his tattoo once was made Gallick rub the left side of his neck to do the same. He tried his best to brace himself for what was about to come, but deep down he knew no preparations would make this news easier.

"Tell me, Darian," Ghost demanded.

"…I just received word from Admiral Hackett, and Val and Carson…" the Turian trailed off.

It was enough to cause Ghost's eyes to fall and his lips to be creased by a despondent frown.

_Shit._ Gallick let his hand fall from his neck and let out a weary sigh. This war had taken someone precious from everyone, and now it was taking an entire ship of friends away from them. _Damn this war._

"They're alive!" Tara cried.

Ghost was too taken by surprise by the sudden good news from his lover to realize what his best friend had done. Gallick, however, was not. Normally such a bad joke would have pissed him off, leading to a sudden outburst of violence and Batarian curses.

Darian could count himself lucky the news was too damn good to be pissed.

That didn't save him from the hard punch to his arm. "Prick," the Batarian chuckled.

Finally it registered with their purple eyed leader. "Darian, you asshole! If I didn't have Tara in my arms right now, I would kick your ass so hard across this museum that they'd erect an exhibit of my foot up your ass!"

"You say that like you can beat me in hand to hand combat," Darian fired back coolly. "Anyways, Val and Carson are on their way back to Earth. The ship took a bit of a beating, but according to them the old girl is still operational. Admiral Hackett wants us off planet for some new operation. Didn't mention what we'd be doing, only that he wanted to meet us all on the Citadel as soon as possible."

"Hmm. Are ships going to be bringing fresh medical aid and troops to Earth?" Ghost asked, mind returning back to the mission while still holding his lover.

Darian gave a firm nod. "Yes. Shuttles are on their way here right now with medical supplies to help with the wounded." He then shook his head. "Hard to say how much they can bring. Between the Citadel and Earth, there's no telling if everyone in need of aid will actually get it."

"Let's hope for the best. Anything else?"

"It's been…requested that we take the teenagers and Jack with us."

Ghost tiled this head in confusion. "Requested? By Hackett?"

"No, by Jack." Darian started to rub the back of his neck again, this time out of true nervousness. "I'd really not like her to rip my spine out with her biotic's and beat me with it for denying them, so I would appreciate it if you let them come with us."

_Heh, she makes Whitney seem even-tempered_, Gallick chuckled alongside Ghost.

"All right. Let her know they can come. I want them packed and ready to go for departure by the time Carson and Val pick us up."

"I'll pass on the message," Darian said as he dismissed himself.

Ghost flicked his eyes over to the Batarian next. "Gallick, could you organize the guys for a perimeter watch? I need to stay with Tara for a while."

The Batarian nodded. Even though the war was officially over, none of them were taking chances when it came to desperate looters and the scoundrel mercenaries trapped on Earth right now.

At the end of the day mercenaries were mercenaries. They were either in it for the paycheck or their bloodlust, and right now they had nothing to sate either of those base needs.

"I'll get them armed and ready."

They hadn't come this far to let some mercenary idiot kill them.

"Thank you. Also check in with Justicar Ria and her team to see if they want to stretch their legs. Ravyn and Ven'Rotha could use some fresh air outside of the medical wing and away from Jugs just to clear their heads."

"Got it."

Gallick took one last glance out at the horizon. The dark blue was replaced by a lighter shade and joined by layers of pink and yellow as the sun peaked out from beyond the horizon.

A hopeful smile pulled onto the war veteran's lips before he turned to fulfill his mission.

For the first time in months, he could finally see a light at the end of this journey. It would take time for the light to wipe away all of the darkness surrounding them, but eventually they would push far enough forward for the light to break through the clouds of darkness to all who needed it.

_And then life will bloom once more._


	3. Chapter 3: Hope

Chapter 3

Hope

Ever since she escaped her father, Miranda Lawson designated the bare minimum of time towards building frivolous friendships. She didn't need friends. She needed contacts. Informants. Reliable assets that provided what she needed when she needed it. Anything more only led to complicated emotional debacles and pointless drama—neither of which she had time for.

Far more important matters needed her attention. There were missions to be completed, reports to be filed. Her father's movements required monitoring. A certain commander desperately needed resurrection.

Work consumed her every moment, and that was how she liked it. Work gave her purpose; it provided her a place to use her engineered perfection, a means by which she could prove her worth as a person to herself.

For several years that satisfied her. Where others saw her as an Ice Queen, she saw an efficient and confident woman unwilling to let childish emotions keep her from achieving what others believed impossible. Reviving Commander Shepard was a prime example of that.

Shepard's previous doctors told the Illusive Man it was impossible. Miranda saw the necessity of her revival and the possibilities it presented. Two years later, she proved the naysayers wrong—as always. Commander Shepard would live to fight another day and lead a team to combat minions of the Reapers.

In hindsight, that same remarkable achievement catalyzed a change in the raven-haired woman.

Deep down, beneath the many layers of cold ice and fortress walls set up around her heart, Miranda truly desired to have something that was normal—anything really. But it wasn't to be. Normal wasn't in her cards, not when her father was an egomaniac determined to create his so-called perfect dynasty.

Although money was of no consequence in her family, monetary wealth did not translate to happiness. It didn't fulfill her soul.

Her intelligence, her biotic's, even her body was all crafted towards the singular goal of perfection. Failure was unacceptable…and when it happened, it struck her harder than anyone would ever know.

Perfection wasn't meant to fail, which meant she was imperfect. A mistake.

No matter how hard she tried, no matter how much effort she put forth, nothing was ever good enough in her father's eyes. Everything she did was flawed; everything about her was a failure.

For a time Miranda believed the emotional, and sometimes physical, assault she experienced from her father was normal. That his verbal lashings and demeaning sneers were the basis of a child's relationship with their parent.

As the years passed, as she learned more of her creation and about the man who created her—not a father, never a father—she finally comprehended how abnormal her situation was.

Parents were meant to be kind. They were meant to guide their children, to love them as their own, not treat them like possessions and abuse them for never reaching their impossible standards.

Miranda couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when she had given up on having a normal life, but she had. Normal was forever out of her reach, always a fantasy she could never experience. And so she became driven to ensure Oriana could have what she could not.

She could give Oriana the opportunity for a normal life, to have a wealth in happiness and love so she never experienced what her older sister had. Providing and protecting their younger siblings, that's what an older sibling's responsibility was…even if it meant never being in their life.

Eventually she buried the pain beneath enough ice that she could ignorantly believe it stopped hurting. Out of sight, out of mind.

She forged new walls and froze her heart over to protect what was left of it. Then she proceeded to hide her flaws and scars beneath an illusion of perfection and confidence, hiding them even from herself.

Once her heart was rendered barren of hope, she submerged herself in work and kept others at arms distance. They couldn't know her or any of her weaknesses. Too risky. Another agent or a spy might try to use information as a bargaining tool or threat.

No one could know about her sister's existent. Or how much she wished to be in her life instead of a lingering shadow unable to embrace her. To her mind, an emotional entanglement was just a way for a sneaky bastard to slip their knife through her carefully crafted walls, piercing the cold blade into her insecure and wounded heart.

This decision was ultimately unhealthy. She knew that. Stripping her heart of its emotions, keeping every person around her at arms distance, it left her lonely. Lonelier than she cared to admit. Why couldn't _she_ be normal? Why couldn't she laugh and tease and revel in comradery with a friend?

Why couldn't she know warmth or affection?

Still, it had been wise to only ever ask these questions when alone in her bed while she was employed by Cerberus—definitely after her…resignation.

She supposed it wouldn't have mattered if she tried anyway. Her upbringing and personal choices left her so emotionally stunted, any attempt would have been utterly stiff and embarrassing.

Miranda didn't know how to go out and have fun; she honestly didn't understand the point of most normal activities. Gambling wasted credits. Partying wasn't her scene. Unsavory bars like Chora's Den and Afterlife, where people crowded together to gawk at half-naked dancers and were so inebriated they couldn't respect personal boundaries, left her edgy and annoyed.

And even if she forced herself to take part, she approached the situations as black and white, pass or fail situations, in turn making her stiff and hard to get along with. It was a mess, really.

Miranda was attempting to learn how to approach without a plan, without considering variables for success or failure and just let herself be normal. She considered it a work-in-progress.

Currently she was back in her natural environment, which was to say she was neck deep in work again.

This time was different from before, though. This time the former Cerberus operative was not working to prove worth as an individual or because someone else told her to do something. This time she was working to save her truest friend from the clutches of death.

Miranda frowned at the chart she was examining; it held nothing surprising or imminently threatening, but her personal investment in the patient left her concerned.

Mentally filing the information away, she glanced up at the battered woman lying in the hospital bed next to her. An IV stuck out of one of her arms, joined by an assortment of other medical tubes pumping the necessary fluids into her body. Over her face was an oxygen mask while bandages covered the top of her head, upper body and arms.

"You've really outdone yourself this time, Shepard."

Unresponsive silence was all she received from the unconscious woman, not that she expected anything else. From the reports she heard, her friend had survived the blast of a Reaper beam, managed to reach the Citadel via the Conduit, fired the Crucible and ended up pinned under ruble.

_Just a normal day for you, right?_

Miranda was certain the red-haired woman would have had something witty to say. Something that would coax a smile or laugh out of her. Hopefully soon she could hear it.

Before becoming Shepard's XO, the mere thought of Miranda Lawson smiling or laughing was utterly ridiculous. Laughter and smiles were for clowns. She was a professional, and not in the mood for jokes. Ever.

Commander Anastasia Shepard changed that. Even though they were at odds in regards to Cerberus back then, Shepard's big heart and hardheaded mentality refused to let their relationship be based around work and work alone.

That's all Miranda wanted. Focus on the mission. On the task at hand. They didn't need to be friends. They didn't need to pat each other on the shoulder or speak about anything outside of the job. She already respected the Commander's accomplishments, and the N7 could trust her to complete the task assigned to her by the Illusive Man.

What more did they need?

Somehow—miraculously, she would say—her cold and unsociable attitude didn't ward Shepard off. She still made her rounds around the Normandy, getting to know everyone under her command on a personal level, even the Ice Queen.

Against her natural instinct, Miranda decided to give it a try. Perhaps she could secure Shepard's future loyalty by getting her to see Cerberus from her perspective. _Clearly that worked_, Miranda drawled, snorting to herself.

Through their talks, the redhead became one of the few people she felt comfortable confiding her insecurities and history with. Shepard, she learned, was an excellent listener. And, unlike Miranda, when she approached her to speak, she did so without hidden objectives or preconceived notions on who she was speaking to.

Miranda started by speaking to her as Commander Shepard—the soldier, the Spectre, the hero—all the while hiding behind her loyalty to Cerberus to thwart any well-earned criticism, hoping to somehow convince the redhead to see the galaxy and Cerberus through her eyes. Less cookie cutter and more twisted and skewed, where questionable moral decisions were okay as long as the ends it procured were carefully considered.

"It's funny," she gave voice to her inner musings, "I spent two years rebuilding you, learning every tiny, insignificant detail I could about your military career, your relationships and your history. I thought I had learned everything I would ever need to know to understand who Commander Shepard was, and perhaps I did, but I never learned who Anastasia Shepard was. Not really.

"I observed your decisions, I nitpicked details out of your personal file, and in so doing built a foundation for who I believed you were before we exchanged a single word. When we finally began speaking, I was probably more stiff than normal," she admitted with a laugh. "But that was my fault. I expected a superior officer; an Alliance Marine full of distrust, stubborn and incapable of seeing beyond your own perspective.

"I was right about your stubbornness, at least. I was wrong about everything else. I couldn't help but be stiff at first. You weren't coloring in the lines of the caricature I drew of you. You weren't my idea of who 'Commander Shepard' was. Not off the battlefield, anyway.

"I got lost in the fanfare. I saw you as the icon. But you were just a person. Fallible. Mortal. Human. And comfortable with the way you were."

Eventually their conversations became less about securing Shepard's loyalty and becoming loyal to her instead. The N7 melted the ice off her heart, renewed her hopes and gave her a reason to believe she could one day have a semblance of normality in her life.

_All the more reason to get you back to full health._

If anyone deserved a chance at a normal life now, it was Shepard. She had given every ounce of her incredible strength to end the Reaper War, pushing through the losses of close friends for the sake of others.

No doctor was required to know that her actions came with a cost in both physical injuries and pure emotional exhaustion. Miranda had seen glimpses of the wear and tear during their few face to face meetings.

It was to be expected, she knew. Huge decisions rested on Shepard's shoulders, decisions where millions upon millions of lives were at stake. That would have been enough to exhaust anyone, but to lose Mordin, Thane and Legion on top of that and not give up hope?

Shepard's strength of will was unrivaled by any person, human or alien.

Her physical injuries were the easiest to notice at the moment. Burns marked her face, the worst of it around her eyes; glass from an unknown source was embedded into her flesh; assault rifle rounds penetrated her right shoulder at some point, shattering bone and tearing tissues.

As if that wasn't enough, the few shattered pieces left of Shepard's armor had been practically charred to her skin, undoubtedly the effect of nearly being incinerated by the Reaper beam.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're lucky you didn't wear your helmet into combat," she spoke to the unconscious woman. "Had you actually worn your helmet it would have certainly melted onto your skull. Removing it would have required us to remove your hair as we tried to fix the damage to your skull, which I'm sure would have infuriated you.

"Fortunately for you, your tendency never to listen to my advice actually saved your face from reconstruction surgery and your hair from being chopped off."

Miranda marked off a few details regarding Shepard's condition on her data-pad then flicked her eyes back over to her patient. "You're also lucky Commander Bailey is a diligent man. He made finding you a top priority, which is the only reason you and Admiral Anderson are still alive. The doctors were able to remove your armor without permanent damage to your skin."

She allowed a cheeky smile to curl onto her lips. "And that thick skull of yours managed to keep your brain intact."

Commander Bailey had done well considering the odds he was against. His actions during the Cerberus coup as well as keeping the Council and those he and his officers could save safe in Huerta during Reaper occupation were feats worthy of a commendation. He was bound to be promoted to Executor, surely to his displeasure.

Now Bailey was using what power he had to keep the Council and the paparazzi at bay while the doctors did their best to save the two war-heroes from death. She was thankful for his assistance. The last thing she needed was a reporter scrounging around for a story, getting in the way of her work and disturbing the refugees and injured within the halls of Huerta Memorial Hospital.

Miranda lowered the chart and made her way over to the other side of the bed, the clicks of her heels echoing in the silent, sterile hospital room.

Talking to herself probably made her look like a fool, but if by some miracle it helped her friend recover, she would gladly look like a fool.

Overall Commander Shepard was in dire straits, and it was up to the raven-haired woman to pull her back from the brink of death again. The whole situation was almost reminiscent of the Lazarus Project, except the lack of unlimited resources and current heartbeat. _I'll take the heartbeat over unlimited resources._

Bailey was the one to inform Miranda of Shepard's critical condition through a group priority message to the past and present Normandy members. As her eyes trailed over the words in the message, her body already began moving to set a course straight for Huerta.

After everything Shepard had done for her, she could finally repay her trust and kindness by helping her this time instead of the other way around.

She was actually not the first person of Shepard's team to arrive on the Citadel, much to her surprise. Kasumi Goto, master thief and best friend of Shepard, already waited beyond the C-Sec guards and decontamination chamber outside of the N7's room.

Head hung in defeat, Kasumi's eyes were glued to the set of N7 dog tags resting in her hand, the grief caused by their friend's condition glistening in her tear filled eyes.

Heartbreaking as it was to see, the state of the cheerful thief provided information on what to expect of Shepard's condition. Critical. On the verge of death. A mountain of work to be done.

Kasumi practically sprung out of her chair just to embrace her in a warm hug when she arrived. The gesture was…appreciated. A bit strange as someone who spent most of her life shutting off her emotions from others, but appreciated nonetheless.

She returned the gesture and shared a few words with Kasumi revolving around their happiness to see that they had both survived, questions about her sister Oriana and Shepard's condition.

As soon as they were done speaking, Miranda moved into the room and took command of the situation. She couldn't just stand on the sidelines and hope for the best in this situation. Shepard needed her help and she needed it right now.

_No more running_, she had told herself.

The other doctors and nurses fell in line immediately, not that they had any choice in the matter. She rebuilt and revived the Commander after she suffocated in the vacuum of space, entered the atmosphere of a planet _and_ crashed on its surface. She could still recite her blood type, cybernetic implants, biotic amp specifications and every other small detail about the internal workings of Shepard's body and the procedures originally used by memory.

When it came to this particular woman, her experience exceeded theirs by leaps and bounds.

Thankfully the doctors and nurses did not show any resentment towards her and offered no arguments to her taking control. What she brought to the table—besides two years of experience reviving this previously clinically dead woman—was the confidence that they could bring Shepard back.

Before she arrived doubt lingered in the air like the disinfectant odor of the hospital. Doubts were ejected out the airlock the moment Miranda entered the picture. It was not a question of_ could_ they succeed, it was a statement that they _would_ succeed, no matter what.

Some of the doctors and nurses were set loose to help other patients at Miranda's behest. Their skills were not inadequate, but Shepard would not stand for innocent lives to be lost because several lead doctors were busy working on her.

After assembling her competent team of doctors and nurses and learning about what they had done already, it was time to get to work.

Today was only the second day of work for her, and so far there were very minor improvements in Shepard's condition. Small as they were, the improvements fell right into her calculations.

This road of recovery Shepard was on would not be over within a few hours or days of work. It would take time, time for the body to naturally heal itself and time to recover from the emotional burden of the war.

Reawakening would still only be the beginning for Shepard. Once she was awake she would have to spend even more time in physical therapy to fully recover from her wounds. One didn't simply just hop out of bed after being shot and having a leg broken by a slab of rubble.

Besides the most recent wounds, she also seemed to be suffering from a few torn ligaments; tendons and muscles in her legs, neck and back were all in different stages of healing.

_Doctor Chakwas wouldn't have let those remain unhealed if she knew about it. I bet Shepard decided to tough it out by taking painkillers then ignoring it afterwards._

Ignoring her own pain to help others was just so Shepard in every way. The end of the war would now force her to actually take into account her injuries and take care of them properly.

_Probably the first time she's actually going to be taking care of her injuries the right way. But she isn't getting a choice this time, even if she will hate physical therapy as much as she hated the Reapers._

Miranda chose to keep the thought internalized just in case Shepard could actually hear her. She didn't want to give the N7 any reason to stay asleep longer to avoid the physical therapy she had planned.

_At least this time we'll be able to take our time with her recovery instead of forcing her right into combat when she wakes up._

She wanted her friend to make a full recovery without any sort of complications to her maneuverability or memory. They couldn't afford to think small. They had to think about her long-term health too.

As she checked over the machines connected to Shepard, her thoughts strayed from work to the Normandy team. She assumed that others stationed on Earth, like Jack and Jacob to name only two, were either on their way here currently or were making the proper arrangements to reach the Citadel at some point in the near future.

She couldn't allow herself to believe any of them had died. The Reaper war had stolen Thane, Legion and Mordin Solus from them already.

To lose more?

Miranda shook her head to shake the thought from her mind.

Before her time on the SR-2 pragmatism and realism would tell her that the odds of their deaths were high. She would have let the logic sink in and then continued on her way in a cold calculated manor without thought or care to their well-being. But that was the old her, the one who didn't forge bonds of comradery and friendship in the fires of a suicide mission.

Believing in anything less than their survival was simply not an option. Perhaps that made her a fool or would lead to more pain in the end. It didn't matter. Everyone who was stuck in the same pit of unknown that she and Kasumi were currently in needed to hold onto that hope regardless of how foolish or painful it could be.

Without hope, all that was left to them was fear and the despair that came with it.

Miranda and Kasumi _needed_ hope; they needed it as much as they needed oxygen to breath. Somewhere out there were their friends, stationed on Earth or on the Normandy somewhere, lost beyond comm signals. Until they received news of their survival, the fears would linger around them like an invisible, noxious cloud.

Those fears were then doubled for Miranda when she thought of her sister's future. Oriana was safe and alive right now, sure, but how long would that remain? The Mass Relays were destroyed and the Reapers had left more homeless and wounded than this galaxy had ever dealt with.

Everyone who had been stationed in the Sol System for the final push were now stranded within the system with limited shelter and supplies. To prevent the utter collapse of the cycle that managed to survive the Reapers meant finding a way to repair the Relays; an undertaking that matched the Crucible project in both sheer size and desperation.

But how long would it take to repair the Relays? Was it even possible to repair the Relays? If not, how long would the supplies in the Sol System last? Humans would be fine because this was their home system, but what about the Turian's, the Krogan's, the Batarian's, the Quarian's? They would have to start rationing immediately to ensure they did not run out.

What about the cooperation between species currently? How long would that last before infighting led to them fighting over scraps of food, water and territory?

All of those questions led back to another main source of her worries: could she keep Oriana safe if the worst happened?

She would do anything for her sister. Kill threats, eat less, sleep on the floor; Miranda would give her own life or organs in a heartbeat if it meant keeping Oriana safe and healthy.

But she couldn't control another war or extremists with weapons. Leaving Oriana alone to help refugees while she worked on Shepard was hard enough in this time of post-war peace. If tensions escalated…

"We have one hell of a mess to clean up," she muttered under her breath.

In the silence she let her eyes fall back to Shepard's unconscious form. _You gave everything you had to bring an end to this madness. Yet it seems despite everything you did, there is still so much work to do. Even when hope is abundant, I can't help but think of what could go wrong and the worst case scenario._

_But you never lose hope. You always manage to see what good there is in this galaxy despite how much pain you had to shoulder for it. How do you do it? How do you keep fighting?_

As that final thought crossed her mind, her mind brought forth the memory of their final conversation to the front of her mind.

"_Shepard…I wanted to say goodbye."_

"_Goodbye?"_ _the redhead questioned, shock clear in her voice and on her holographic face._

_Miranda had been dreading saying those words this entire time, but they had to be said. This final fight against the Reapers would either end with all of their deaths or would end in victory. But with that victory would come with a high cost and leave the galactic stage in a place where former members of Cerberus weren't welcome._

_Her eyes fell momentarily at the thought of having to leave behind what friends she had finally made, but she quickly steeled herself so she could say a proper goodbye to the woman who allowed her to save her sister and be a part of her life._

"_If we both come back from this at all, everything…will be different," she said hesitantly._

_Shepard remained silent for the briefest of moments before she gave a nod. "You're right, everything will be different." Before Miranda's heart could fall from the unspoken hope that Shepard would tell her she was wrong, the Commander continued. "But this time it's going to be on our terms, because we made the changes," she replied, her voice and eyes relaying her faith in those words. "We've been running this whole time. It has to stop."_

_Yes, it did. All Miranda knew was running. She had run from her father, from Cerberus, from everything. But she couldn't run forever. At some point she was going to have to stop running and stand by something or someone that she believed in._

_If she was ever going to know what it was like to have something remotely normal, she had to stop running._

_This moment before her was the time to finally take a stand, she realized. This woman she had the privilege to call her friend was the person she could stand by and know without a shadow of a doubt that she would never turn her back on her or use her for her own gains._

"_You're right, it does have to stop."_

_Shepard's blue hologram took a step towards her and rested her holographic hand on her shoulder. There was no physical feeling behind it, but Miranda still felt the gesture in her heart as her friend locked eyes with her. "This isn't goodbye. You have to believe we're not done yet; that there is something good waiting for all of us beyond this war."_

_Hearing those words and the strength behind them bolstered her spirits. In a sign of solidarity, Miranda raised her hand and rested it on the holographic arm of her friend. "Listening to you, I can believe it."_

"_Good. Just remember who you're fighting for, it'll get you through this." Miranda nodded in understanding. "And Miranda…"_

"_Yes?"_

"_Be careful, please."_

_She nodded firmly. "I promise. And you do the same, Shepard."_

The memory faded as quick as it came and left Miranda with the same feeling of solidarity she had felt at that moment.

Maybe things weren't perfect right now, but there was still hope. As long as there was hope to grasp, she would keep fighting for her sister's sake, her friends and for the chance at uncovering the good waiting for her somewhere out there.

Miranda rested her hand on the physical shoulder of her friend and smiled to herself. "I kept my promise, now it's time to keep yours," she said. "If there is something good waiting for someone like me after all of this and after all the mistakes I made, then something wonderful is waiting for you."

Her thoughts trailed to Kasumi sitting outside of the hospital room with the N7 tags in her hand for a brief moment.

"Remember who you fought for and come back from this, Shepard. You're not finished yet."

Miranda released her shoulder and picked up where she left off in her work, feeling just a bit lighter than she had before.

Everything would change, but it was going to be on their terms this time, just like Shepard told her. They were going to be the ones who made the changes, personal or otherwise.

It would be challenging, it would force them all to face some ugly facts. But they would stop running from the past and start working together towards the future.

To her past self that was an absurdly optimistic idea, but one thing Shepard had taught her was that regardless of how dark a situation could be, no matter how seemingly impossible the odds were, there was always hope.

Hope was the reason they had gotten this far, and she was certain it would take them even farther in the near future.

* * *

_Review Response to the Guest from Chapter 1: Glad you enjoyed the return and hope you enjoy the new entries! Thank you for the review! _


	4. Chapter 4: New Beginnings

Chapter 4

New Beginnings

Jack hadn't slept much since the end of the war. Don't get her wrong, she was beyond relieved that the Girl Scout's plan successfully killed the Reapers and saved all of their asses from being killed or harvested. The mere presence of the Reapers in the Milky Way had clutched her heart and lungs in the deathly claws of anxiety.

Their destruction finally released the tension like a sensual full body Asari massage—happy ending included. For the first time in what may as well have been years she could breathe again without fear. Victory set them all free of the fears that plagued their waking and sleeping hours.

Yet despite how awesome the death of the Reapers was, Jack's mind and body went out of their way to prevent her from really savoring it. She should've been giving her students some ink for a job well fucking done. She should've found whatever soldier was stashing the best liquor and drank every one of the lightweights under the nearest table.

Instead of doing any of that when she regained consciousness, her body decided to say "fuck your fun" with severe aches that made Jack feel as if she had been run over by a truck, survived and then the asshole ran her over again in another failed attempt to kill her.

Okay, so maybe the aches were her own fault. _Maybe_ she overexerted herself during the final moments of the war, but damn it, overexerting herself was the only way to keep her kids alive.

Couldn't her body give her a free pass this once?

_Apparently not_, Jack thought, rolling her eyes behind her eyelids in irritation. _Could've been worse, I suppose. Could be dead, or stuck in that medical wing._ Honestly it was a toss-up on which of those was worse. Luckily for her she was not only still alive, but Jav and Ravyn also bailed her out of the wing once she woke up.

Her pride did take a blow from being all but thrown over the shoulder of the old Krogan as they carried her out. God, if Garrus, Kasumi or Shepard had seen that, she'd never hear the end of it. Still, it was better than staying one more second in that horror wing.

Shit in the medical wing was almost as bad as the shit she went through back in the Teltin Facility. No thanks. She would recover just fine without the screams of injured soldiers all around her.

_Hope Jav, Ravyn, Shay, Ven and Ria keep safe down there and figure out how to fix Jugs._ Part of her felt guilty for taking the first ride out, but, as painful to her pride as it was to admit, they would be fine without her.

At the time of leaving she was just dead weight. Her body needed more time to recover from what she put it through, leaving her unable to keep an eye on her students or provide any support towards the recovery.

_They have enough people to take care of without adding my uselessness into the mix_.

There were more important, real problems to deal with besides taking care of her. She'd be fine. She survived worse than this. Besides, something else needed her immediate attention.

Jack furrowed her brow as a sting of pain shot through her skull. She groaned in a mixture of agitation and discomfort, bringing her bare forearm up to rest over her eyes, further blocking out the light of the med-bay she laid within.

_Damn migraine just doesn't know when to quit._

Another reason she barely slept.

It would have been fine if it was just a random migraine. At least then she'd know it would only linger for a short time before disappearing like an Afterlife stripper once she finished her dance for a broke patron. But this migraine had a source she could trace it back to: Her biotic amp.

Holding up that biotic bubble against the Harvester at a time when she was nearly depleted of energy took a heavy toll on her body, to the point of almost frying her amp. The tech wasn't broken, not entirely, but the strain she put on it caused this persistent migraine to continue beating harder than Afterlife's club music.

The skin around her amp still tingled, followed by waves of searing pain in the immediate aftermath of the war. Four days of that pissed her off.

_And I thought the Collector Base left me a fucking mess. This shit tops that completely,_ Jack thought with a shake of her head. _It even gave me a bloody nose, and I_ _haven't had one of those since those Cerberus shits first started torturing me_.

She could have asked for painkillers, but honestly there were people in worse shape than her. There were people who had lost limbs or were hanging onto thin threads of life in immediate need of those medical supplies. People like the soldiers in that medical wing…and Shepard.

_Shepard…_

Jack made a noise of discontent as she shifted on the medical bed, turning onto her side while trying to shut her mind off for at least one hour.

_I just want an hour of sleep without these damn thoughts bombarding me. Can I at least have that?_

Her plea went unanswered as her mind continued to accelerate through hundreds of worried thoughts.

Jack's reason for hitching a ride off Earth was simple: Shepard had survived. The news reached her through her barely functioning omni-tool via a message from none other than Commander Bailey, C-Sec officer and friend of Shepard. The tattooed biotic hadn't cared much to ask how he got the message through. Luck seemed the obvious answer.

Regardless, Jack didn't care. She was just happy to read that first line of text telling her the Girl Scout survived. However, the happiness she felt was blown up and ejected into the cold vacuum of space by everything else that followed that revelation.

According to Bailey's message, Shepard was barely hanging on.

He tried to keep the message hopeful, mentioning her location at Huerta Memorial Hospital, the doctors working long hours and the watchful eyes of his trusted security detail keeping watch. He requested they return on the chance Shepard woke up so she could see friendly faces…but hidden within those words was the other reason to show up: to say goodbye if it came to that.

The mere thought of having to say goodbye…it made Jack want to biotically crush whatever inanimate object laid nearby. Luckily, at the time of reading it, she lacked the strength to pull it off; otherwise several objects would've been turned into stress balls to ease her returning anxiety.

She needed to get the Citadel. Shepard had helped her in so many ways in the short time they knew each other. The least she could do was be at her side as some sort of support.

Not that there was much she could do. She wasn't a doctor or nurse or the one who rebuilt the N7 after death like the Cheerleader had, but—as fucking cheesy as it was to say—she felt a responsibility to be at Shepard's side in this final fight of hers.

_Ugh. I need some alcohol to wash that crap out of my mouth._

And if Shepard didn't pull through…then…Jack wasn't sure she could physically bring herself to say goodbye. In fact, Jack refused to even believe that could be an option. The Girl Scout _would_ live. She couldn't leave them after all the shit they went through, not after already losing Mordin, Legion and Thane.

When she found out that the N7 Talons ship was coming to pick them up for a meeting with Hackett, she knew right then and there she had her ticket off Earth. To secure said ticket she may have _slightly_ threatened the Turian second-in-command to allow her and her students on board.

Could she have been more diplomatic? Sure, easily. All the time having to keep her tongue on a leash did teach her some things about diplomacy. But her way was a hell of a lot more fun.

Besides, it was just her way of testing the people that kept her kids safe. Were they a bunch of uptight assholes or were they the kind of people she would buy a round of drinks for? If they recoiled in horror at the threat then they were assholes. If they took it in their stride and fired back then they were good people.

Darian, the second-in-command, passed her test with flying colors by calmly brushing off her threat with a joke before saying he would check with his leader about her request. Not long after he returned to tell her they were all welcome to join them.

_I'll have to thank Ghost for bringing us along, and for staying at the museum to protect my guys. _That would be later, though, when she finally figured out how to thank him without sounding like a pansy.

Right now her mind continued to race around a never ending track of worry.

Outside of worrying about Shepard's condition, and constantly battling between doubt and hope for her survival, Jack was beginning to worry about what came next.

It wasn't like destroying the Reapers meant everyone got to high-five or slap each other in the ass before walking off into the sunset where no problems existed. No, that was the ending of a cheap vid that shirked away from the cold hard truth of war.

All anyone on Earth had to do was look outside to see the planetary level devastation they had to clean up. Or they could look to medical wings and realize there were thousands upon thousands just like them all across the galaxy.

The unfortunate truth: People were going to die in post-war or while scavenging areas for resources or because of sheer stupidity. They couldn't get around that. So what the hell did she tell her kids?

All of them were all so happy and buzzing with energy since the war ended. Some of them had already come asking her what their next mission was, volunteering for the recovery effort without fear.

How was she supposed to tell them that the Relays were currently FUBAR and without repairs another war could break out? How was she supposed to tell them that they may end up having to ration food for a while so no one starved?

Their situation would be precarious enough with pretty much every species crammed together between the planets of the Sol System and the Citadel. What if it led to infighting? What if all the work the Girl Scout put into bringing them all together was thrown away because of the same old hatreds that separated them originally?

So far Jack hadn't found a way to express her fears for the future or tell her students their problems weren't over. For that reason she fell back on an old habit: bottle it all up inside, secure it in an impenetrable safe and never look back.

She could already hear Shepard or Chambers or even the Cheerleader listing off the unhealthy consequences of her choice. They'd just have to deal with it, because this time she wasn't doing it to hide from her own pain; she was doing it to avoid killing the light in her students' eyes.

_This war has taken so much from all of them already. Telling them it's possible for shit to go sideways and end in everyone fighting each other over scraps of food or water would only crush their spirits._

So yeah, she would keep all of her fears locked up inside so no one could see them. Anyone who had a problem with her protecting the hopes in her students' hearts could go to hell. Her kids needed her to _believe_ in a brighter future, and she'd do her best to believe for them…even if she secretly feared what would come.

_Shepard…I really hope you aren't thinking of checking out on us, because right now I could use one of your inspirational speeches._

The hiss of The Setting Sun's med-bay doors opening pierced her ears and sent a wave of pain crashing across her skull. Jack did her best to keep the pain from showing on her face by focusing on the footsteps that would follow. Depending on the weight of those steps, it would either be one of her students or one of the N7 Talons.

All she heard was silence before the doors shut.

Curious about the silence, Jack shifted back onto her back, removed her arm from her eyes and lifted her head up to see who—if anyone—had entered the med-bay. Her gaze locked onto the passive features of the Drell named Grissom, chief medical officer of The Setting Sun crew.

He wore a similar style of gear to Thane's gear, the only difference being the jet black base color complimented by an iridescent violet as a secondary color. His skin tone was closer in shade to Kolyat than Thane, though.

The doctor nodded shortly to her in greeting. "Are you well Jack?"

Jack offered a small nod of greeting in return. "Yeah, I'm good."

What the hell did she have to complain about? The Reapers were dead and a lot of the people she cared about were still alive. This pain was just a small hill in comparison to the mountains they had been forced to climb to win the war.

Grissom paused mid-step and tilted his head to the side. After a brief and silent examination, his features became sympathetic. "You look exhausted. Are you not sleeping well?"

_Well, shit._ Apparently her lack of sleep was visible enough to grab the doctor's attention. Jack waved her hand nonchalantly in an attempt to keep him from investigating further. "Ah, I'll be fine."

Not a second later she winced from another jolt of pain in her skull. _Fuck, that one hurt._

Grissom noticed the wince, which led to him leveling her with a look of wry amusement. "Mmhm. And I'm an Asari mistress," he retorted dryly.

Despite the pain making her slightly nauseous, Jack chuckled at his response. "Okay, maybe I've got a migraine. But it's no big deal. I'll tough it out," she told him, still trying to avoid him wasting his time on her.

"If you only knew how many times I have heard that argument then you would realize the futility of having it with me," Grissom responded, changing his original trajectory to start moving over to her.

A smirk curled onto her lips. "The Krogan, Batarian or humans?" she asked.

"Every single member of the ground team. No exceptions."

Jack whistled as Grissom pulled up his omni-tool and started running a scan on her. By her count that totaled nine people—three humans including their leader, two Asari, two Turians, one Batarian and a massive Krogan.

_No point in arguing, I guess._ Stubborn as she was, Jack knew a losing battle when she saw one.

Grissom wasn't a bad guy, either, so that made it easier. Through the years and harsh experiences of her life she honed her ability to pick out scumbags, backstabbers and general assholes. The Drell gave off none of those signs.

So far he, like the rest of the N7 Talons, had been accommodating to her and her students. They were nice, respectful and gave the kids bunks in the crew quarters on real beds so they could rest and recover on the trip to the Citadel.

The N7 Talons didn't owe them anything. They didn't need to bring them along or treat them as comrades. Yet they did.

_Another thing to thank them for._

"Vitals are good. No internal organ damage. Hmm. Strained muscles are healing nicely, and your amp shows no sign of infection."

Well, that last bit was a relief. _At least I'm not going to die of a stupid infection after surviving the Reapers. That'd just piss me off._

"Is the tingling sensation still there followed by the waves of burning you mentioned?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think overheating it burned the skin around it or something."

"A conjecture based on previous experience, I assume?" Grissom phrased the question in a rhetorical sense before walking away to the med-bay supply cabinets.

"Yeah, you could say that," she answered anyways.

The Collector base walk had left similar symptoms. Chakwas explained it; she hadn't retained any of the information.

He hummed in response then fell silent as he searched through what remained of their supplies. What had once been a well-stocked med-bay looked ravaged by scavengers. Having seen the amount of wounded at the museum, Ghost had The Setting Sun donate most of their medical supplies to the museum in hopes of helping as many of the wounded as possible.

Another sign to Jack that these people were good. At a time like this it would've been easy to rationalize hoarding supplies to help your own people. To see good will like that still thriving despite the fears she had, it gave her hope that maybe everything would turn out okay. That maybe the Girl Scout not only saved the galaxy, but also dispersed her kindhearted and generous fungus to everyone as well.

Jack watched as Grissom continued his search, feeling a sense of familiarity about the way he glided rather than walked. How his footsteps didn't even seem to make a sound the entire time. She noted his straight posture when he found a tube of medi-gel located in a drawer and how his glide to a different cabinet was effortless yet filled with an air of confidence only certain individuals in the galaxy had: one of which she had called a comrade and friend.

"Hey, can I ask you something, Grissom?"

"Certainly."

"What did you do before becoming the team medic for this crew?"

"What makes you believe I had another occupation other than being a doctor?" he returned her question with his own, coyness in his voice and an amused glint in his black eyes in the single glance he offered her.

_Gonna play it coy, huh?_ All right, she'd play along, but only because she wanted confirmation to her assumption. Against the desire of her throbbing skull, Jack sat up fully and let her legs hang off the side of the bed. "The way you move. It reminds me of a friend we lost during the Cerberus coup."

"I see." He shook a pill jar he pulled out of a cabinet, humming victoriously at the sound of several pills colliding within the bottle. "Well you have keen eyes then, Jack, for you are correct in your silent assumption."

He unscrewed the cap, tilted the bottle and coaxed two pills out before sealing the bottle and putting it back. Grissom glided back towards her, offering a smile as he approached. "I am a trained assassin."

_He said with a smile before murdering a target_, Jack thought in grim humor. His movements were an echo of Thane's in every way. The silent glide, the confidence of knowing he could handle any confrontation with any species, the straight posture, all of it was a callback to her fallen friend.

Seeing it again hit her with a wave of solemn nostalgia she did her best to move on from quickly. "So, how did you go from assassin to medic? Seems a strange change of work."

"But is it really? As an assassin I had to know the vital points of every species, learn how the internal functions of their bodies worked and how to cause them to fail. Pressure points, locations of bones and their strength, all of this and more I learned before serving as a medic. The only difference between what I did before and what I do now is the application of that knowledge to heal my comrades and kill their attackers."

"That's…a good point." There were obviously some finer details to learn about being a doctor, but a good point nonetheless. Also a good reason not to get on the bad side of this Drell. Medic or not, he still had his killer instinct locked and loaded. _Just like Thane._ "But don't assassins tend to work alone?"

"The best do, yes." The confidence in his voice made it clear he stood among them. "If you are inquiring on how I joined Ghost and his team, in short my employers were the victims of a data-grab. I was sent to kill the culprits and recapture or destroy the data. My target met me in one-on-one combat and fought me to a stalemate; he then informed me of what the data contained. I made a judgment call."

Jack tilted her head to the side at the vague answer, but obeyed when he motioned for her to turn so he could apply medi-gel to the area around her amp.

She grabbed her ponytail and lifted it up before asking, "What was on the data, and what kind of judgment call did you make?"

"I was told my employers were operating a slaver ring in secrecy to fund their extravagant military projects. Innocent men, women and children of varying races were being sold to the highest bidder to fulfill the abhorrent needs of this galaxy's scum."

"Shit," Jack muttered. _That's sounds like something Cerberus would pull off, all for the "good of the human race" I'm sure._

"My target was seeking to expose them after freeing all the slaves," Grissom continued. "He gave me the chance to choose my own fate: I could either continue with my contract—and undoubtedly die due to the reinforcements he believed I was unaware of—or I could help him save the slaves and bring down the entire operation."

Cold gel being lathered around her amp made Jack hiss in surprise and flinch away from the hand applying it. "My apologies if that hurt."

"Nah, nothing to apologize for. Just cold." Cold as it was, the briefest touch of the gel on her skin made the tingling dissipate.

Grissom hummed and started to lather the gel once more.

"So, what'd you do?" _Please don't end up being an asshole. It'd really sour my good opinion of you all._

"I aided my target in freeing the slaves and exposing their entire operation. I then killed the ones who originally hired me."

_Shit, definitely not going to screw with him._

Grissom finished with the gel and offered his other hand with the pills sitting on his palm. "Before that mission I saw myself as a tool, disconnected from the galaxy and the consequences of my actions.

"Ghost woke me from my battle sleep. He showed me how I could use my talents to bring light to this galaxy instead of allowing myself to be used to spread darkness. When I asked to join his crew, Ghost and the others welcomed me with open arms. They became my family, and this ship," he motioned to the walls with his free hand as he smiled, "became my home."

Jack nodded silently. She understood _exactly_ what he meant. What Ghost had done for Grissom was the same as what Shepard had done for her. Before meeting Shepard, she didn't care about anyone except herself.

No one could be trusted.

The life she lived, when not spending time in a maximum security prison, was lonely; the kind of life she carried the visible scars on her body from. But Shepard changed that. Shepard showed her there were people she could trust, people she could care about without fear of someone backstabbing her. Shepard gave her a chance to find her own version of a family and a place to call home.

Words to describe that feeling were hard to find, if they even existed at all.

"I get that, I really do," Jack finally said, her voice softened by true understanding.

Grissom dipped his head in a nod and dropped the pills into her tattooed hands.

Then a thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, snapping her eyes from her hands to the Drell in front of her. "Wait a minute, your target was _Ghost_? The guy who leads you is the same one you tried to kill?"

Her sudden realization led to Grissom smirking amusedly at her. "Indeed. Interesting how paths can diverge, is it not?"

"Attention all passengers, this is your captain speaking." The sound of Ghost's voice coming over the intercom drew Grissom and Jack's attention to the ceiling. "This is a general reminder that escape pods are not to be used for extracurricular activities such as, but not limited to: Science experiments, weapons testing or zero-gravity sex. Remember, it's all fun and games until someone hits the eject button during the climax."

One corner of Jack's lips tugged up into a smirk she aimed at the Drell. Outside the med-bay, thunderous laughter belonging to a Krogan reverberated along the walls of the ship. On any other ship she would've assumed the "general reminder" was to be taken as a joke, a way to lighten the overall mood after going through hell.

In a way, it still worked for that purpose, yet something about Ghost's delivery and that laugh gave Jack the distinct feeling it wasn't_ just_ a joke.

"I take it there's a story there," she probed the Drell for more information.

"Several, actually. Unfortunately, I was sworn to secrecy on all matters pertaining to the escape pods."

"Aw, come on! You can't seriously just leave it like that," Jack protested.

Grissom merely smiled. "We don't talk about the escape pod incidents."

Jack muttered a curse under her breath at being stonewalled by the Drell doctor. Tales like those were the best kinds of stories to tell in post-war situations; full of humor and the innocence of normal lives to drown out the bad memories.

Grissom continued in her silent defeat by pointing to the gel capsules in her hand. "You can take these pills without a meal or a drink with no side effects, outside of pain relief for your migraine. Your students have also informed me you have not eaten anything today."

_Little narks._

"For that reason I will have a ration bar delivered to you. Furthermore, I recommend once you have settled your other affairs on the Citadel that you make time to rest. Your body needs it."

_That's if it finally lets me sleep_, she mused. "All right…And thanks, Grissom." He hadn't needed to take the time or use their limited medical supplies to help her, but she appreciated it all the same.

He bowed his head. "You are welcome. Farewell for now."

"In other news," Ghost proceeded over the comm as Grissom made his leave, "we're beginning our approach to the Citadel. Barring any interruption or critical malfunction, we'll be docked in ten minutes and finally able to take a nice, deep breath of Citadel air before we join the relief effort. Quick reminder to the ground team, don't make any plans for any R&R or joining the relief effort until after our meeting with the Old Man."

Jack swallowed the two pills and reached over to the nearby countertop where she placed her jacket. If they were arriving soon at the Citadel then she needed to get her students ready for their inevitable departure from The Setting Sun.

_Not sure where I'm going to bring them yet or where we'll be bunking on the Citadel_.

She hadn't planned out every little detail to this trip like the Cheerleader would. All she knew was she needed to get back to the Citadel and the N7 Talons had a way to get her there; it had been a perfect fit as far as she had been concerned.

_Hmm. I should try contacting Kahlee. Maybe she's on the Citadel or knows a sector of Alliance officials who won't abuse my trust or my students' abilities._

Yeah, that sounded like a good plan. Comms were still pretty shitty, but if Bailey managed to get a message to her and the other members of the Normandy team then it should be possible for her to contact Kahlee Sanders. If her message managed to get through, they could either meet up with the rest of the Grissom Academy students under her care or she could point the tattooed biotic in a good direction of people she trusted.

_If she's not there or I can't contact her though…_ Jack hummed lowly in consideration of her options as she stuffed her arms through her jacket.

Ghost, in the meantime, continued over the intercom.

"To the rest of the crew, I want to thank you all for everything you've done to keep our home in one piece throughout our time together. Anyone who wants to take an indefinite leave of absence to provide your skills elsewhere or to just rest after the shit we just lived through, know you will always have a home waiting here for you. Anyone staying, buckle up because we've got a lot of work ahead of us. Soon as a good bar opens, though, you can bet your ass we're throwing a party that's going to keep the entire Citadel up all night long."

Cheers resounded through the entire ship. From the upper decks to the cargo hold down below, the entire ship came alive with the voices of a loyal crew.

Jack smiled at the reaction, feeling another wave of nostalgia tugging her back to the moment right after the Normandy team survived their mission to the Collector Base and escaped the blast—the moment the entire crew broke out into a mixture of laughter and cheers for their hard fought victory.

For a reason she couldn't quite explain, hearing The Setting Sun crew cheer gave her hope. _You know, I think we may have a better shot than I thought._

Jack shook her head and hopped off the bed. _All right. Enough soft and mushy crap. Time to get off my ass and get to work._

* * *

Jack entered The Setting Sun CIC at a casual pace from the stairwell leading up to it. It was strange, admittedly, for their not to be an elevator ride between her and the upper floors of the ship. Stranger still was the somewhat jarring similarities between this ship and the Normandy.

It made logical sense, she supposed. The Normandy SR-2, even if recreated by Cerberus, remained a combination of human and Turian engineering. The Setting Sun, while closer in size to the original Normandy, was a Turian scout frigate, so there were bound to be some similarities.

The main crossover that threw Jack off the first and now second time she had seen it was the CIC itself. The CO's station awaited in the exact spot as the Normandy's, meaning at the very back looking over the rest of the crew with the galaxy map hologram in front of it.

Walking through the door felt like walking out of a portal back onto the SR-2. The only differences were the sleeker and smaller size of the room in front of her, the fact the galaxy map shimmered in and out of existence and a Turian stood at the CO's station.

"Gallick, Kar, how are we doing in the main battery?" Darian, who had a data-pad in hand, questioned into the comm.

"Ah, could be worse," the Krogan of the pair answered over the intercom. "Finally made enough space to work down here without cracking my headplate on everything. I even learned a few new Batarian curses, too. Isn't that right, Gallick?"

The obvious tease in Kar's voice earned a snort of amusement out of Jack. The sound drew the attention of Darian. He offered a silent nod of greeting before the Batarian spoke up.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, cannons will need a calibration overhaul. I haven't seen these guns in such bad shape since I first stepped foot on this ship."

Darian nodded mostly to himself and pressed a few buttons on the data-pad, probably noting yet another repair to be made among the growing list. "Reaper fire will do that," he reminded.

"True enough. Hold on." A brief moment of silence. Then a growl of agitation followed by a loud _boom_.

Kar's bellowing laughter seemed to shake the CIC at whatever hilarious sight he just beheld. At a guess, based on the laugh and Darian sighing and shaking his head, Gallick tried the Krogan and Batarian way of fixing things: smashing whatever was broken as hard as possible.

"Argh, stupid piece of junk. Add a new terminal onto our requisitions while you're at it. This one's broken," Gallick said.

"Gallick…" Darian sighed, seemingly at a loss for words. "…Was punching the terminal with your enforcement gauntlet necessary?" he asked at length, jotting down the requisition as he did.

"It was worth a shot."

Jack moved on and up towards the cockpit where Ghost and his two pilots were. Unlike the Normandy, the cockpit of The Setting Sun had two pilot chairs, both aligned with the front of the ship with enough space between the chairs for at least two people to stand comfortably between them.

In the left chair sat the Asari pilot, Valera, and in the right sat the Turian pilot, Carson. Neither were considered co-pilot by the other or the rest of the team, apparently. Though the ship could be piloted by one, according to Ghost they preferred to both be at the helm.

To Jack it sounded similar to the relationship Joker had with EDI; they could both pilot the Normandy, yet together they were a greater force to be reckoned with.

Ghost hovered a few steps behind them both, his arms crossed over his chest and his back turned to Jack as he watched their approach to the Citadel. The armor he wore on his arms and his weapons were gone, though the rest of his outfit remained the same. Even the hood of his white tank top remained up, concealing the enigmatic man's features behind a shadow.

_I get the feeling he doesn't take that thing off in front of anyone outside of his crew. Kind of like Kasumi in that aspect, only she never takes hers off._ The brief reminder of the master thief brought a momentary frown to her lips. _I hope you're all right, Kasumi. For your sake, and for Shepard's._

As she neared the cockpit, her ears caught the sound of Valera speaking. "How are our engines, little sis?"

"Stable and holding together despite the damage," Tara's voice came over the intercom in the cockpit. A sigh from the chief engineer quickly followed her initial statement. "Just hang on my poor, poor engines. We're almost done pushing you."

"Don't worry, Tara. We'll be docked soon enough," Ghost reassured. "Keep us posted if anything changes."

"Aye aye, Love. Keep us on our path, Val. You too, Carson."

"Will do, little sis. Right, Carson?"

"Right," the Turian responded.

Jack waited until she was certain the conversation was over to make her presence known. "Ghost, gotta minute?" she asked as she stopped a few steps behind him.

She had mostly come up here after getting her students ready to see their docking firsthand. She hoped to get an idea of the condition of the Citadel. But there was also a lingering, nagging feeling that urged her to finally speak to Ghost so she could thank him for everything he had done.

It…wasn't easy to get this far. Her mind raced through several different ways to approach the conversation on the way up here and how to say it without sounding like an idiot. Unfortunately, every time she thought she had it figured out, the words would begin to sound bland or make her scrunch her face up at how stupid it sounded.

Now that she was here, Jack decided the best approach was to just say fuck it to planning and wing it all. Better to offer a sincere and awkward thanks to show her real emotions than to memorize an insincere statement.

Ghost turned around and greeted her with a nod and an easygoing smile. His purple eyes seemed to glow behind the shadow his hood created, though Jack wasn't sure if the color was caused by contacts or some kind of genetic engineering. Considering he hid his face, she doubted he would tell.

"Ah, she walks among the living once more. Feeling better?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. Grissom stopped by and gave me some pain relieving pills." Her migraine still lingered currently right at the back of her skull, but it wasn't as severe as it had been. For that, Grissom had her thanks. "He also mentioned how he once tried to kill you before joining your team."

To her final statement, the corner of Ghost's lips pulled up into a smirk. "Amazing how friendships can start, isn't it? One moment you're enemies who are trying to kill each other, the next you're friends fighting side by side through hell."

His words caught her off guard. Internally Jack knew they were meant to describe his friendship with Grissom, yet her thoughts were immediately drawn to Miranda and how their relationship evolved over their time around each other…and her final thoughts of the Cheerleader before passing out.

She quickly shoved those thoughts back down into the deepest chasms of her mind where they couldn't be heard. So far she had managed to avoid confronting those thoughts, and she would keep shoving them back down until she no longer had any strength left if it meant keeping the awkward knot in her stomach as far away as possible.

Luckily for her, Ghost provided a good distraction by continuing to speak. "Though I bet he only gave you the short version. The long is more complicated and actually details the sacrifice he made in joining us."

"Sacrifice?" Jack questioned. Nothing about what Grissom mentioned hinted at any form of sacrifice whatsoever. It actually sounded pretty black and white from her perspective.

Ghost turned around to face the viewports and motioned with a wave of his hand for her to join him. Stepping forward to join his side, Jack was gifted with the sight of the Citadel and all its broken glory.

"Holy shit," she muttered under her breath when she saw the detached arm up close.

Ghost chuckled. "Couldn't have put it better myself. We've got a lot of work to do, but if Commander Shepard and her team were able to cure the Genophage, broker peace between the Quarians and Geth and bring us all together to beat the Reapers, we can sure as hell fix a giant space station and the Relays."

Before meeting Shepard, Jack would've rolled her eyes and taken the statement as someone just trying to conceal cold truth behind rainbows of bullshit. But after everything she had seen in the war, she knew Ghost was right.

Through Shepard's actions, the galaxy had united to defeat a threat that had harvested countless cycles before them. That unity still lived on through those who fought and bled side by side with each other, like her team during the war and this one she was surrounded by now.

"Yeah, you're right," Jack agreed, nodding along as she felt her scattered hopes begin to weave together to form a stronger rope to hold onto. It would take work, but she wouldn't give up. She had to become the solid pillar of strength and hope Ghost and Shepard embodied for the sake of her students.

Before that, however, they needed to land safely. Curious to hear what Grissom hadn't told her, and in need of a distraction from their current situation, Jack redirected their conversation from their current reality to what she assumed was the distant past.

"So, what sacrifice did Grissom make?"

"Because of the truth I revealed to him, he made the decision to follow my lead in saving the slaves, killing the slavers and exposing everyone else who was involved." Ghost stared out at the viewports, a thoughtful expression taking over his features. "He had been working for them for a long time but never researched into where they were getting the credits for their extravagant spending."

"He mentioned something about seeing himself as only a tool," Jack said. A feeling Cerberus tried to impart onto her at Teltin.

Ghost gave a nod of agreement. "Yeah. In a way, I couldn't blame him. His work and skillset required him to shut off that portion in our minds and hearts that make us ask questions like who we're fighting, if they have a family or children, if they are actually a good person while we aren't. By telling him the truth I ended up forcing him to confront what his actions were causing and if he could truly stay on the path he was on."

"It was a gamble from the start. Few assassins would have listened to you, Captain, let alone joined our mission," Carson noted from his seat.

"True," Ghost agreed, "I won't deny that I got lucky or spin a tale about how I knew he would join us. I didn't," he said with a shake of his head. "I'm happy I managed to get through to him, but it's that same decision that forced him to sacrifice his reputation and ability to live a normal life for several years."

Jack furrowed her brow in confusion. How did saving slaves end up in ruining his ability to live a normal life of all things? "I don't get it. How does helping you cost him a normal life?"

"The criminal underworld blacklisted him," Valera answered in place of her captain. "Because of how many people were tied to the slave operation and their knowledge of his mission to stop us, exposing it to the galaxy put him at the top of several hit lists. Those who survived wanted him to pay for his betrayal. Killing us became a secondary objective."

"Assassins dogged him for years," Carson continued off his fellow pilot's statement. "They tracked him on missions, on shore leave and even to a few of our old hideouts. It always ended in a fight to the death."

The purple eyed man nodded along in agreement to their statements. "Grissom will never admit it, but he sacrificed a lot by joining our crew…" Ghost released a deep sigh full of past regrets he still shouldered. "I spent a long time trying to fix what I screwed up. Managed to get the assassins to stop, helped him forge a new reputation." He sighed again and reached his hand up to rub the back of his hooded head. "But sometimes I wonder if what I did was enough to fix it all."

The sound of Ghost's doubt brought forward Grissom's smile and previous words in Jack's mind. _"Ghost woke me from my battle sleep. He showed me how I could use my talents to bring light to this galaxy instead of allowing myself to be used to spread darkness. When I asked to join his crew, Ghost and the others welcomed me with open arms; they became my family, and this ship became my home."_

"You succeeded." Jack surprised herself by her own statement, and judging on the curious expression on Ghost's face, he was surprised by it, too. Instead of elaborating on how she knew exactly how Grissom felt, she shook her head and said, "Trust me. You did more than you're probably aware of."

Having a family after being alone for so long, having a home always waiting for you after living on the move all the time, those feelings were more precious than any mineral in the galaxy.

Ghost merely nodded in response. "All right." He wouldn't prod further, but his active purple eyes gave Jack the sense he understood in part what she didn't say.

"Captain, a message coming in from Citadel Control."

Ghost's eyes left her and returned to the two pilots in front of him. _Back to business._

"Patch it through, Carson."

"Unidentified vessel, please state your name and business," a Turian voice, likely female based on the pitch, requested.

Ghost hummed lowly. "Scanners must be down," he muttered before speaking up again. "Citadel Control, this is Ghost of the N7 Special Operations Group designated as Talon Company, captain of The Setting Sun. We were ordered to return to the Citadel by Admiral Hackett." One corner of his lips tugged up into a cheeky smirk. "We come in peace."

Valera and Jack both snorted in amusement at his final comment while Carson just shook his head. Their amusement died in the bout of silence that followed; a silence which sewed threads of anxiety into everyone in the cockpit. The pilots shared a nervous glance before looking back to their leader for guidance.

Jack watched the man carefully, trying to figure out what thoughts were going on in his head based on the movements of his eyes and what she could see of his features.

Finally he broke the silence with another attempt to make contact. "Citadel Control, this is the captain of The Setting Sun and leader of Talon Company, an N7 Special Operations Group. We were ordered to return to the Citadel by Admiral Hackett. Do you read me?"

Silence again. Then—

"Setting Sun, this is Admiral Hackett. Welcome back."

The entire cockpit released a collective sigh of relief at the sound of the old Admiral's voice. Ghost's posture visibly relaxed as he leaned forward onto Valera's headrest.

"Glad we could make it, Admiral. Any chance you could point us towards a stable docking bay?"

"Sending the coordinates now, Ghost."

"Thanks. Before you go, we have Grissom Academy students and their teacher onboard. They're uninjured, but they'll need guidance on where to go and where they can stay on the Citadel. I'd prefer they aren't lumped in with a bunch of pricks."

Jack's eyes snapped to the man in shock at him taking such initiative on her current situation. He didn't know it, but she had tried contacting Kahlee between checking on her kids and coming up here. So far she received no word back from the woman.

She didn't particularly enjoy having Ghost solve yet another problem for her, but that was her pride talking. Generosity still felt strange to be on the receiving end of; it still gave her the feeling of being indebted in some way even if she really wasn't.

Hackett spoke up before Jack could say anything, his voice sounding pleasantly surprised at the new information. "The biotic team? Glad to hear they made it out of the war alive. I'll send someone to your ship to help them get settled in on the Citadel. In the meantime, make sure you and your team stop by so I can offer the gratitude you all deserve for your hard work throughout the war."

"Thank you, Admiral. My team and I will swing by as soon as we can."

"Understood, Ghost. Hackett out."

The comm clicked off, leaving the cockpit in relative silence absent of the previous anxieties, yet also humbled for Jack. Why this man and his team continued to stick their necks out for her and her students was beyond her.

No one outside of Shepard and Kahlee had ever gone out of their way to be so helpful, and those who did usually had ulterior motives hidden behind their so-called kindness. _But he keeps doing it without any hidden intentions._

Nothing about the man reeked of the duplicitous motives of her past experiences. If he reeked of anything, it was that fungus of kindheartedness Shepard was known for. _Not that I'm complaining._ Jack would never admit it out loud, but the galaxy needed more of that kindness in it, so seeing it here from a different person gave her hope.

Still, the words to express her appreciation and gratitude for the generosity of this man were hard to find.

Ghost, unaware of her humbled silence, kept his eyes forward as the ship maneuvered towards their docking bay. "Carson, Val, bring us in nice and easy. Try to keep the hiccups down to a minimum."

"Yes, Captain."

"We've got this, Ghost."

The ship glided into the docking bay without any struggle. Only when the docking clamps secured them and the ship shut down fully did Jack allow herself to exhale a relieved breath.

Ghost pushed off the seat and stepped forward to activate the comm to the entire ship. "The Setting Sun has officially landed. Great work everyone."

Cheers and woots of pure happiness followed his statement, managing to make Jack smile ever so softly. _We made it._

Their journey was far from over, but at least they no longer had to fear the ship failing them anywhere on the trip to the Citadel. Now they could focus their attention onto the important tasks at hand, namely the recovery efforts for the Sol System and galaxy as a whole.

"Grissom Academy students, please meet me and Jack in the cargo hold as soon as you've gathered you're gear. My guys, I'll see you down there as well," Ghost ordered before stepping away from the comm. He went to both of his pilots and pat them on the shoulder as they both rested their heads back against their headrests with their eyes shut, quietly taking their long due break. "Thank you both for working so hard."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, Ghost," Valera replied, patting his hand with her own.

"Happy to be here, Captain," Carson said.

The captain of The Setting Sun nodded to them then turned his attention to Jack. "Come on, we'll talk on the way down."

Jack dipped her head in a nod then followed at his side as he led the way to the cargo hold.

The man thanked each member of his crew as he passed them, offering handshakes or hugs depending on the person's desire. It was strange to see someone outside of Shepard with such a deep connection with their team, although not at all unwelcome.

"How'd you know I still wanted to talk?" she asked as they reached the stairs leading down into the CIC.

Darian met them at the stairs, stopping Ghost for a fist bump as they shared in congratulations for the hard work to get them this far. After slapping Darian on the shoulder, he turned to offer her a cocky smirk. "I'm psychic."

"And a bit of a sarcastic asshole," Darian said, lightly slugging his shoulder. "But if this ugly bastard knows anything, it's people."

Ghost chuckled lightly at the jab and turned back to face his friend. "A sarcastic asshole and an ugly bastard? Ouch. You wound me, Darian."

Darian's mandibles shifted into the Turian equivalent of a smirk. "You'll live."

"True. Mind gathering the guys for me?" Ghost asked, turning serious once more. "I want to see our guests off and make sure whoever Hackett sent to help them isn't a prick."

The Turian gave a sharp nod and clapped him on the back. "See you down there, Ghost," he said before departing.

"Thanks, Darian." Ghost motioned her to follow again. "As for how I know, like Darian said, I know people. It's one of the reasons I have such a great team of friends backing me up."

_Just like Shepard._

They exited the CIC and made their way down the stairs into the mess hall. "Besides, you didn't come up to the cockpit just to talk about Grissom or observe our landing. There's something else on your mind."

He was right, the observant bastard. Everything they had talked about allowed her to avoid putting herself in the unfamiliar territory of offering genuine thanks. There were no other distractions to avoid it now, other than not thanking him at all. That'd be an asshole move, though, and Jack had no intention of being an asshole. Not to him anyways.

Few words could express her appreciation for his team's effort in protecting her kids. It had been hard enough finding those words to thank Justicar Ria and their team for everything they did; luckily they had been around her enough to understand her awkward few words.

Ghost still remained more or less a stranger to her, as she was to him. That's made this harder. With Shepard, Kahlee and even the team back on Earth, they had enough history with her to understand what sounded like half-hearted thanks was actually more. Here with Ghost was different.

He may know people, but he didn't know her personally.

_Damn, why does this have to be so hard?_

They both boarded the elevator in silence and the purple eyed man hit the button to bring them down to the cargo hold. Their silence was, thankfully, not completely uncomfortable, and Ghost didn't stare at her in waiting to make it even harder.

_Just fucking say it already_, she hissed at herself mentally. All the shit she gave Rodriguez about taking the balls out of her purse and strapping her into training bras and here she was struggling just to thank someone. Ugh, this was so stupid. All she had to do was thank the man and then they were done. Nothing more, nothing less.

Not like she'd end up saying something as stupid as "you have fantastic tits" again.

Jack internally groaned at the reminder of her stupid compliment. _Why am I such a fucking idiot?_ She was still waiting for the Cheerleader to cash that in…if she made it out of the war alive. _Fuck me. Why did I have to think about that now of all times?_

Stupid brain.

_Cheerleader will be fine_, she reassured herself._ Just focus and thank Ghost already so I can put this behind me._

Taking a deep breath, Jack finally put on her big girl pants and attacked the issue at hand. "I…wanted to thank you…and your team."

There, done. Now they could move on.

Ghost turned to her with what seemed to be genuine confusion on his face. "Thank us? For what?"

_Seriously?!_ Jack growled at herself and turned her head away. Shit. Of course this wouldn't be that easy. She hoped he'd realize what she was thanking him for without any context like a moron to get a casual "you're welcome", but no. Despite his previous claim, he wasn't psychic, and that meant they weren't moving on just yet from this uncomfortable situation.

In a way, it perturbed Jack that he didn't realize what exactly she was thanking him for. Couldn't he see how much she cared about her students?

"What do you mean 'for what'? You ignored your orders to join the final push to stay at the museum to protect everyone there. Me, my students, the soldiers."

A bit of anger seeped into her voice against her hopes. Ghost wasn't at fault for not knowing about how important her little brats were to her. It was just…gratitude didn't come easy for her. At all. Doing this made her feel like she was lowering the walls she forged in fire through the years, giving her a feeling of vulnerability that she struggled to deal with.

Realization shone in Ghost's purple eyes in response to her statement. "Oh. No need to thank me or my team for staying. We just did what we thought was right."

"Bullshit," Jack countered. No way was he deflecting her thanks after all of her hard work to say it. "You saw how fucked that museum was. We'd all be dead if you and your team didn't stay."

The doors to the elevator opened and both of them stepped out into the cargo hold. The place couldn't have been a bigger mess, to be honest. Their two shuttles were lying flat on the ground, thankfully not on fire or leaking eezo. Crates were scattered about along with mechanic tools and more rifles, pistols and shotguns than a gun store.

Ghost led the way through the single winding path carved through the mess with Jack on his tail. "I can't rightly deny that," he replied.

"Then take my gratitude already," Jack grumbled.

The purple eyed man flashed her a smirk but otherwise stayed quiet until they reached the back of the cargo hold.

Once there, he turned around and said, "We were just doing what we could to keep as many people alive as possible. But I can see offering gratitude isn't easy for you, so…" He put his hand out for a handshake. "I'm glad those kids have someone who cares enough about their well-being to discard their pride to offer real gratitude, regardless of how tough it is for them."

"Darian was right. You're an asshole." Jack took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

"So my friends tell me on a constant basis," he replied through a chuckle. "I don't know if we'll ever meet again, but I wish the best for you and your students."

"…Thanks. You too."

Ghost went over to a nearby terminal and pressed a few buttons to open up the cargo hold door. The descent started smoothly. Then a loud crack resounded through the room, leading to sparks flying from the hydraulic systems as the backup systems tried to keep the door from falling.

They failed, and with their failure the door fell faster and harder to the platform below than a drunk Elcor tripping over its own limbs, resulting in a thunderous _boom_ she was certain the Council heard from their tower in the Presidium.

"That could've gone better," Jack jested.

Ghost shrugged and smirked. "I'm just glad it was the door and not the engines." He then connected to his comm to inform Darian about what happened before panic could set in.

Not long after, all of her students arrived, each wearing curious expressions to the noise they heard but all ready to go. Jack still went through an equipment check to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything before telling her students to thank Ghost before they left.

"Ah, no need to thank us. Happy to help," Ghost deflected their thanks. "Before you go, let me just say this: I know what you've all experienced has been tough, and I can't promise anything from here on out will be any easier. The damage the Reapers have done, well, we've all seen it."

Her students gave varying signs of agreement; some nodded, others let their eyes fall to their feet in reminder of the mess ahead of them. Jack shut her eyes and released a deep sigh. The shit they had all seen… Even someone as tough and scarred as her could feel the lingering effects on her mind.

"But don't let those past memories dishearten you," Ghost stated, confident and firm in his belief in the words he was saying. "For the first time ever, this galaxy is fully united through our shared pain and blood to defeat the Reapers. That shared pain will bind us together in the coming days, months and years."

Ghost began to pace as he continued his speech. "Everything that was broken can be fixed, renewed. Old wounds have healed, and in time the new wounds will, too." He shook his head. "The war isn't the end. It's a new beginning for us all. A new journey to experience. I won't lie; it'll take a lot of hard work. But don't lose hope, and make sure you stay safe out there."

The hopes Jack had felt slowly weaving themselves together felt stronger than ever with those words. Even her students felt the effect of them, each nodding and smiling brightly at the hope filled words of the purple eyed man who saved them.

Jack smiled softly to herself before stepping forward to address her students. "All right kids, you heard the man. We've got a lot of work ahead of us. Let's go."

She lightly slapped Ghost on the arm in silent thanks for his words and farewell before leading her kids down the ramp. The whole walk down she wondered who Hackett might have sent to help them. When her eyes fell upon a familiar head of blonde hair and blue eyes, she couldn't help but grin.

"Hey, Kahlee. Been a while, huh?" she greeted.

Kahlee Sanders smiled at her and the students as they all greeted the woman in excited happiness that she was here and had survived the war. "Feels like a lifetime. I'm happy to see you are all in one piece."

"Of course we are," Jack responded confidently. "Those Reaper bas—" Kahlee shot her a humored smile as she awkwardly tried to prevent the curse from leaving her lips. "Those…creeps," she amended, "didn't stand a chance against us. Right kids?"

They each voiced their agreement, keeping both women smiling a moment longer before both of them moved to the business at hand. "So, where are we staying?" Jack asked.

Kahlee stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder, her features and eyes giving off signs of comfort and sympathy that slightly unnerved Jack. "I'll take the kids from here and send you our coordinates later. Go see Shepard and the others. They could use good news."

Just the phrasing of those words made Jack flinch as if someone moved to strike her. "…Is…is Shepard okay?" she asked, reluctant to hear the answer.

The look of comfort and sympathy remained; it made Jack's heart hurt at the possibilities of shit going wrong.

"She's stable, but still unresponsive." Kahlee gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Go. I'll handle the kids for now."

Reluctantly, Jack nodded and gave her temporary goodbye to her students. She glanced back to The Setting Sun only once to see Ghost still there just as he told Darian. He gave a small nod to her, that she returned, before turning back to meet with his team.

_Thanks, Ghost._

For protecting her kids and for refueling her hopes, she would always be grateful to the N7 Talons.

_New beginnings, huh?_

Jack liked the sound of it. She just had to hope turning the page here wouldn't mean leaving behind the woman that made it possible.

_Hang in there, Girl Scout._


	5. Chapter 5: Ice and Fire Reunited

Chapter 5

Ice and Fire Reunited

Huerta Memorial Hospital was considered one of the premium medical facilities on the entire Citadel. Between the several doctors and nurses roaming its halls, they had expertise in just about every medical avenue possible prior to the war, whether that was a human with a broken bone, a Salarian illness, or environmental rooms for non-Council species.

But like everything else in the galaxy, the Reaper War found a way to change that.

As a bystander who had only seen this place during the war, Jack couldn't say how well the hospital operated or how many patients they dealt with on a day to day basis before the Reapers decided to wreak havoc on the galaxy. That being said, she had a good feeling whatever it looked like in the past bore little relation to the hectic mess the war turned it into.

So many wounded from the different fronts were carted in and out of this hospital, to the point of such an increase in population that there just wasn't enough room for everyone to wait or be tended to within the halls of its medical wing. Gurneys, both occupied and not, littered the reception area as sleeping bags and the like cluttered the floors so refugees and non-critical injured could rest.

Whatever staffing achievements they might have had before meant little the moment the Reapers arrived. Huerta was just too understaffed to handle every critical case thrown at them. How the doctors made it work—outside of _a lot_ of long hours—remained unknown to Jack, but she respected their hard work nonetheless.

Obviously the first priority was keeping a direct path from the entrance to the patient wing for emergencies. Couldn't have any type of blockades of people or objects when seconds determined life or death. Still, she knew that task alone would've been extremely difficult to accomplish.

On Earth she had seen firsthand the amount of catastrophic damage the Reapers were capable of. She had heard the reports from colonies and homeworlds belonging to every race sending countless injured and refugees to the space hub, hoping, praying there was space for them there.

She had witnessed the medical wing at the museum quickly pile up with injured and deceased, and she watched the frantic frenzy of doctors rushing around trying to help as many as physically possible.

The fact Huerta managed to handle it all—hell, the fact any of the medical wings across the entire galaxy managed to handle such an influx of wounded and not crumble at the foundation was praise worthy.

Yet, as the tattooed biotic stared at the mess of Huerta in front of her, she knew there was only one word that could now describe the hospital: chaos.

The war may have ended, but the refugees still had no place to go and the wounded still needed medical attention.

Between the time she last visited and now, the amount of people lining the hospital floor had doubled. No, tripled. And within their hopeful eyes she could see two things. First was the genuine relief and happiness she herself and everyone else she encountered thus far were overcome by. The war was over; the fears of the Reapers victory a fading memory they never wanted to think of again.

The second thing she saw was the fatigue and general restlessness of the same memories lingering on all of their withered and tired faces. Soldiers, civilians; didn't matter whether they fought on the frontlines or not, the war had found them all and left its mark.

Jack noticed a man lying on a sleeping bag, his right arm fully casted and held in a sling to keep it from moving while bandages covered his forehead and bare chest. An Asari sat next him, her hand holding his free one in solidarity as she chatted about something Jack couldn't hear over the cacophony of several voices talking at once. A smile creased her war worn features despite missing half her leg.

Across the room was a Turian male supporting his weight on crutches as he made his way through the swarm of people; his armor was riddled with bullet holes and his face marred by an explosion. A male Quarian teenager carefully followed next to him, flinching every time he stepped on his right foot.

Everywhere she looked she found people in similar states of injury or exhaustion by the war.

_What a mess._

"_They could use some good news,"_ Kahlee's words played back in her mind as her eyes glided around the room.

It was no wonder why. Even if Shepard was still hanging on, being around _this_ could not be doing anything good for their psyches. Just the few seconds she took to process and find some way through it all left her with a solemn, gut twisting feeling.

Shit like this was a painful reminder of everything they had to throw at the Reapers to stay alive. Even when there were hopeful looks and smiles, the scars were still completely visible.

None of them had made it out of the war unscathed. Not the old, not the young, not the civilians or the soldiers. Each and every single one of them would carry this war with them to the end of their days.

_…But maybe it's better this way._

Disunity between the races and old grudges had held the galaxy back for centuries. Mistakes of the past were left to fester like a bad wound, slowly killing any chance of them ever changing the path they were on.

The Krogan were the easiest example to look towards. And as they were neutered and left to boil in their hatred, the Asari were hiding a Prothean artifact to keep their civilization far more advanced than the others.

_Because of fucking course they were. Assholes._

This war, for all the evil it wrought, had given Shepard the platform she needed to kick asses and force people to give up their petty bullshit and grudges for unity. Not slimy politician unity where people were waiting to stab each other in the back. _Real_ unity. Unity so tangible that Jack was able to see it, feel it and enjoy it while fighting alongside Jav, Ravyn, Jugs and Ven'Rotha.

The war was over, though, and Jack wasn't ignorant enough to believe it wouldn't be easy for the galaxy to fall back into its old routine fast.

Politicians were somewhere hidden within the cracks and crevices, huddled down away from the shitstorm, waiting for everything to cool off before crawling out to score political points and gain power like the cockroaches they were. And it might have worked too if the galaxy had made it out relatively unscathed.

They hadn't, though. Scars of what was lost—limbs, homes, family members—were everywhere they turned. If there was anything Jack knew best, it was how it felt to carry deep, heavy weighted physical and psychological scars with her. The Teltin Facility left more than enough, and all these years removed from it hadn't changed how the memories followed her.

Shepard helped her put a lot of the past behind her; the same could be said for her time at Grissom Academy, but she never forgot.

Never.

Time might dull the blade, but scars like hers never faded for good. Or they hadn't yet. Maybe one day…

Regardless, this wasn't about her scars. This was about the Reapers and the scars they left, because the death bringing assholes hadn't just left physical or psychological scars on the people of the Milky Way galaxy.

Those alone would've been enough to remind everyone affected of what they went through and how they survived. They'd remember Shepard's story, how she fought through political bullshit to unite everyone by means of peace and how without that they'd have all died.

The Reapers did more damage than leaving a physical wound or a nightmare to dog them through the years, though. They had literally devastated every planet they touched, and in doing so left their permanent scar on the galaxy as a whole.

Now no one could ignore or forget the sacrifices made to win the nightmare war.

_Better this way_, Jack decided with a nod to herself. If no one could ignore or forget it, the future had a chance of being a brighter place than it had been before the war. Her students could actually live good lives and never have to fear wars like the one they survived.

That was something good to hope for out of this painful war, right?

_I need to get moving._ Lingering around here served no purpose. If her presence could somehow lighten the mood of whoever arrived from the Normandy team, it was best to get there soon. It'd also get her out of this hurricane of noise that enticed her migraine to come out of hiding.

Jack weaved her way through the chaotic mess of people, doing her best to stay out of the way of the doctors and nurses speed walking between patients and refugees to offer their aid. Through her walk she caught different details of news and gossip.

"I heard their working on getting power to other areas on the Citadel to convert them into refugee centers…"

"…more bodies down in Zakera Ward."

"Did you hear? A ship of war heroes from the frontlines arrived on the Citadel! I bet they'll know if…"

"…Do you think Commander Shepard and Admiral Anderson will make it?"

"Spirits, I hope so. The Council needs…"

Jack shut out the extra noise when she reached the doors between her and the patient wing where Shepard would be. Two C-Sec guards stood at the door, one a darker toned male Turian and the other a Salarian woman with intricate markings on her face. Both wielded rifles in their hands and neither appeared to be relaxed despite the end of the war.

_Still taking their job seriously at least._ With what remained of Cerberus and who knows what other crazy people still out there, she was glad to see Bailey kept his soldiers on high alert for any suspicious activity.

"Name? Yours and of the person you're visiting?" the Turian asked while the Salarian opened her omni-tool to run a scan on her, likely an identity check.

_Guess its good Kahlee forced me to register an ID._ To end up omni-cuffed because she used to be a wanted criminal would have really killed her mood.

"Jack, here to see Commander Shepard," she answered.

A second later the Salarian hummed. "Checks out." The Salarian shut her omni-tool and nodded her head to the door. "Head on through and try to keep out of the doctors' way. And for what it's worth, I hope everything turns out okay."

"Thanks," Jack thanked before heading through the doors, through decontamination and into the main medical hall. From there she proceeded forward while scanning the area for any sight of a Normandy team member.

It didn't take her long, her eyes locking onto a familiar hooded woman sitting outside of a hospital room with her head bowed as she stared at something in her hands.

Jack's eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise as her legs unconsciously quickened their pace to close the distance faster. "Kasumi!" she greeted over the other sounds of the hospital.

Kasumi Goto's head shot up from whatever she was looking at to Jack, eyes gleaming in utter shock at the voice of the newcomer. "Jack?" the thief questioned, unsure if her tired eyes were fooling her.

Jack couldn't help but grin at the master thief. "Hell yeah. Who else do you know with a badass attitude and tattoos?" Damn was it good to see a friendly face…figuratively speaking.

The thief returned her grin with her own as she all but hopped out of her chair and met the tattooed biotic with tight embrace. Jack went rigid initially at the sudden contact. This…this was a first, not to mention incredibly awkward.

_Since when was Kasumi not afraid of hugging me?_ Jack didn't exactly give off a warm and fuzzy vibe anyone wanted to embrace and hold forever. Hell, the only person she ever allowed to embrace her was Shepard, though the N7 hadn't given her much of a choice.

"_Either you let me hug you willingly when no one is around, or I sneak attack you in front of everyone and hold you for an awkward amount of time. Your choice, Jack."_

Yeah, that latter option was _so_ not going to happen. Hugging was awkward enough alone, but in front of _everyone_?

"_Argh, fine! One hug. __**One**__! Just don't make it weird, and wipe that stupid grin off your face!"_

Her triumphant grin never faded.

To now be willingly embraced by someone else without consent made her body and brain seize up. It wasn't just the physical contact she wasn't used to; it was the fact that she could practically feel Kasumi's relief and happiness through the embrace.

And it wasn't some awkwardly positioned hug either. The thief had her arms wrapped around the back of her neck and her head resting on the biotic's shoulder.

It took barely a second for Jack to register it all, but instead of pushing Kasumi off of her with a curse like her past self would've done instantly, she let her body relax with an exhale and wrapped a single arm around her comrade's back.

Whether she had softened up more than she cared to admit, or the combination of her own relief and happiness with Kasumi's made it easier didn't really matter in the end, she supposed. This hug wasn't just Kasumi's attempt to get banter ammunition or rudely invade her personal space to prove a point.

This was a hug of comrades who deep down knew they were lucky to see each other again.

_No, not just for that reason_, Jack thought as she closed her eyes and absorbed the feelings of comfort she had only ever felt when around her students and the rest of the Normandy team at the apartment. _This…this embrace is for more than a greeting. It's a means of support, for both of us._

Although Jack did not plan to make a habit of hugging, she knew in her heart this was the right response to not only be given support for this next fight ahead of them, but to also give support to a friend drowning in a sea of despair over the current state of Shepard.

Kasumi released her and took a step back with a bright smile on her face. "How'd you make it here so quick? And how are your students? Are they all okay?"

Jack gave a firm nod, happy to pass on the good news. "Yeah, they all made it through without injuries. They're with Kahlee right now."

She'd have to make sure to check in as soon as she was done here to regroup and keep her eyes on all of them as they helped the relief effort.

_They may have survived the war without injuries, but they're still teenagers going through puberty. Don't want them making a stupid mistake because they couldn't keep their egos or hormones in check._

The last things she wanted to hear about was how one of her students got injured trying to lift too much rubble, or how one of them decided _now_ was the best time to start having unprotected sex and ended up getting someone knocked up or knocked up themselves.

"Ah, so that's where she went!" Kasumi said, snapping her gloved fingers as if solving a puzzle she had been working on for countless hours.

The response made Jack tilt her head to the side in confusion and cock an eyebrow up. _Is she stalking Kahlee or something?_ Kasumi was known among the crew for sneaking around the ship using her cloak. But why would she follow Sanders around?

Seeing her confusion, the thief went on to explain. "Kahlee has been in and out of here as well. Well, not _here_, here," she corrected while motioning to their general area and the room nearby. "She's been visiting Anderson down there," she turned to point further down the hall to a different room.

_So those people I overheard weren't kidding_, Jack thought pensively._ Anderson must have got injured during that final push the same as Shepard._ There were pieces of information missing in regards to Shepard and her mentor; questions like how she got so injured and was the Illusive Man still out there somewhere.

If the answer to the latter was yes, Jack stood ready to volunteer for a hunting party.

Answers to those questions would come later, though. More important to their immediate situation was her next question. "How's he holding up?"

Kasumi turned back to her, a frown beginning to crease her lips and eyes hesitant to meet Jack's.

_Shit…_

"He's…hanging on. Just like Shep." The sobered somberness of her voice made it abundantly clear they were both hanging onto the end of a rope with barely any grip left.

…_Kahlee._

Sanders and Anderson had history, although Jack knew little on the specifics. Wasn't her business to prod into their past, definitely when she wasn't keen to talk about her own history.

However, even in the brief mentions of Anderson around Kahlee it was easy to see she had feelings of some kind for the Admiral. Feelings neither had ever been able to fully commit to thanks to their respective jobs keeping them light-years apart. Feelings time hadn't been able to erode like a wave brushing up against the same stone for hundreds of years.

Now it was in the hands of doctors and his will to live if they'd ever be able to connect again.

_Fucking Reapers._ Wasn't enough to destroy their planets and their civilizations, but they had to do it in such a way that caused so much pain and suffering even after they were finally dead.

Jack wished one Husk or the Illusive Man would come rushing into the halls of the hospital just so she could inflict as much bodily harm as she could to them for every ounce of pain they caused. Only then would they understand her fury.

"Miranda wanted to help him for Shep's sake, but she's had her hands full with Shep," Kasumi mentioned.

_Sounds like the Cheerleader._ Not the Cerberus bitch she met on the SR-2 who drawled along about taking orders or some bullshit like that, but the one who risked her life for her sister and actually managed to smile and laugh genuinely at the party.

Jack began to nod in understanding, only to stop when she realized what exactly Kasumi had just said. "Wait, the Cheerleader is here?" she asked, her surprise growing at the sudden revelation.

She had thought, rather ignorantly apparently, that Kasumi was the only one here. But now…

_If Miranda is actually here and working on Shepard already…_

Well, their chances of successfully bringing Shepard back had just gone from a hopeful maybe to a real fucking chance at bringing her back.

_Hell yes._ Shepard's struggle for life was far from over, but with Miranda on the scene, Jack had no doubt she'd drag the N7 back from her eternal nap to walk amongst her friends again. Her eyes flicked over to the door. _Don't let her quit, Miranda._

Kasumi nodded to her question. "Yep." She jabbed her thumb back towards the room Shepard was apparently in and continued, "She's in the room with a few nurses working on Shep right now."

"That's…good."

_Good_ was an understatement. To learn another comrade had survived helped untie a knot of worry and let her inhale another breath of relief and hope. The fact that it was Miranda, the only person outside of Chakwas who had experience with healing Shepard, was fantastic.

That same fact also ignited her pride and kept her from admitting her true feelings outwardly. Internally, however, it was impossible to ignore the feelings.

She wanted to smile, to say something meaningful that'd reflect how she felt about the situation, but doing so would've been difficult regardless of who it was. It being Miranda turned the dial of difficulty up to a million.

Why? It'd be easy to blame their rivalry and her lack of social experience in giving people compliments. While those were true to an extent, Jack couldn't help but be drawn back to those final thoughts before unconsciousness. How she wished to have complimented her growth as a person instead of her tits…and how her smile and laugh gave her a warm feeling she wasn't used to.

Jack mentally shook the feeling off. _Argh, stop thinking about that already_. This wasn't the time or place to dissect those particular thoughts or feelings; definitely when Kasumi was right in front of her. _I can only imagine the amount of shit she'd give me if she knew about that._

It was shudder worthy.

"At least we know someone capable is taking care of Shepard," Jack said in an attempt to move past her own thoughts.

A glint of teasing shone in Kasumi's eyes as her lips upturned into a smile. "Capable, huh? Miranda would love to hear such a compliment from you. I think it'd be a lovely bonding experience for you two."

_And there it is._ It had only been a matter of time before Kasumi managed to find some way to make a joke about that. Jack rolled her eyes outwardly in feigned annoyance, but internally she felt content to be hit by such a wave of normalcy.

"Whatever. She wouldn't believe you if you told her, so I'm in the clear," she retorted, falling back into the familiar banter she hadn't realized she missed so much.

Kasumi brought her closed left hand up to her lips in a contemplative manner. A silver glint from the inside of her hand caught Jack's attention. _What is that?_ Despite the thief's armor being black and silver, that specific glint hadn't belonged to it. It was something else, something the biotic couldn't quite see.

"Hmm. If I could word it properly…"

As the thief considered her viable options to convince Miranda, Jack did her best to study the object in her hand without drawing attention to herself.

_It's…a necklace?_ Keeping her eyes from squinting was difficult, but not impossible. Keeping her eyes from widening into saucers when she managed to see a capital _N_ within the pendent was a far more challenging. _Not just a necklace, those are Shepard's tags._

How Kasumi got ahold of them didn't matter, nor did the tattooed biotic plan to tell her to give them back. _Those are her lifeline right now. The one thing she can hold onto as she waits to hear for good news about Shepard._

Nothing symbolized Shepard more than the N7 badge they had all grown used to seeing on her armor. If there was anyone who would take care of the N7 tags as if they contained the essence of their friend's soul, it was Kasumi.

Kasumi sighing in defeat and lowering her arm woke Jack from her examination. "Yeah, you're right. I don't think anything I can say will ever convince her. But," the mischievous glint returned, "_you _could always tell her yourself. I'll record it for Shep so she can see you two finally embrace those deep feelings for each other."

Again Jack rolled her eyes, this time letting one corner of her lips tug up into a smirk. Another familiar tease, another breath of relief. _Nice to know some things won't change despite the war._

"In your dreams, Kasumi." She lifted her chin towards the door. "Cheerleader want space right now?"

"Yeah. But they should be taking a break soon. Come sit, you can tell me about how you made it back here while you wait," Kasumi said, moving to take her original seat again.

Jack took a seat next to her and explained the final push of the war, purposefully leaving out her state of unconsciousness to keep her pride intact and to keep Kasumi from worrying. But mostly pride. Bad enough that the N7 Talons and Justicar Ria's team witnessed it; informing the Normandy team would only eventually put her on the receiving end of banter.

Not a position anyone wanted to be in.

She spent most her time talking about her students and how proud she was of each and every single one of them for not losing their cool during the war.

Her little brats, they shouldn't have ever needed to face the horrors of war the Reapers concocted. Their biggest fears should've been getting laid, but things didn't turn out that way. Just like her childhood, horrors that no child or teenager should've ever been put through happened because of evil assholes hell-bent on doing the unthinkable for a bullshit reason.

In the face of that, her kids toughened up and worked hard to help in whatever way they could. War found them all, and they decided to face it in a fight rather than run away with their tails tucked between their legs. They even kept their cool when their teacher, the one meant to protect them, fell unconscious for the remainder of the war.

Jack couldn't be more proud of them.

Admittedly, talking about her students with Kasumi was… nice. She felt…lighter, somehow, as if the weight of the war was being lifted off of her shoulders.

It seemed to be working for Kasumi as well; her body language relaxed more than it had been before Jack arrived. The only thing that remained the same with her was the tight grip she kept around the tags, as if letting them go would cause her to lose Shepard too.

Jack didn't judge. Shepard was important to all of them for different, yet all equally meaningful, reasons. But she knew somewhere deep down in Kasumi's heart she finally realized that their bond had long transcended a friendship.

_Even I could see they cared about each other more than friends. The only ones that were oblivious to it was them._ A glance to Kasumi let Jack see that her attention had been drawn back to the tags. _Until now, it seems._

Just another reason she hoped Shepard would get through this.

Jack shifted forward to lean her elbows onto her knees, exhaling softly as she tried to enjoy the silence that fell between them. It wasn't that it was uncomfortable; it was just all the other noise making it more difficult.

Obviously nothing could be done about it. Telling doctors to politely shut their mouths while they were in the midst of discussions referencing different patients and how to help them would get her kicked out of here faster than a drunk human in the Turian military.

The noise wouldn't have been a real issue under normal circumstances. The migraine slithering its way out of the depths to reengage her in a roaring battle of who could be more stubborn was the real problem. So far she had it pinned face first in the mud, and she planned to keep at it until she finally took Grissom's advice to try to sleep.

In an effort to divert her attention away from the pain, she decided it was time to ask the question she had been dreading since arriving. She needed to know to, hopefully, settle another pattern of worried thoughts that were stirring in the back of her mind.

"…Any news from the others?" Jack asked at length, keeping her gaze locked with her boots and the floor under them. She didn't want to see the pain or worry in Kasumi's eyes or a frown to signal the bad news she herself feared.

"…Nothing yet," came Kasumi's nearly silent reply. Jack shut her eyes and inhaled deeply to keep her sadness at the news from becoming overbearing. "I haven't had any luck contacting the ones on Earth. Neither has Miranda. I've asked Hackett about the Normandy. He said they retreated with the rest of Sword…but they're on the missing in action list right now along with several other ships."

Despite the somber news, Jack found herself nodding along at it. She had figured as much, even if she hadn't been willing to admit it at first. But even if they had no idea where the rest of their friends were, there was still good news.

"Missing in action doesn't mean dead," she stated firmly, whether for Kasumi's sake or her own she couldn't say. "It's only been four days so there is still plenty of time before we should start worrying about them."

"I know you're right…But EDI…" Kasumi stopped herself, unable to say more about the Normandy's AI fate.

Jack flinched and shut her eyes at the stab of pain that pierced through her heart at the reminder. _EDI…she would've been shut off just like the Geth._

Her curiosity, her humor…all of it taken away by that red wave of destruction. They didn't even know the mechanics behind how the Crucible managed to destroy the Reapers, let alone how it affected the other synthetics or if they could reactivate them.

Jack hoped…but…"…Fucking war," she cursed under her breath.

"I'm sure Tali will find a way to reactivate her," Kasumi tried to reassure. "She's the best engineer we know and an expert on the Geth. There's still a chance."

Yeah, there was a chance. A small chance, one barely even detectable by the naked eye, but if a small chance was enough to keep them fighting what seemed to be an impossible war, there was no reason for it not to keep her hopes up here, too.

"Yeah, you're right. There is," Jack agreed with a small nod.

There was still a chance for EDI, a chance for the Geth, a chance for Shepard and for all of the other members of the Normandy team, past and present, to get through this. They just had to maintain hope for them so no one gave up on trying.

That's what Shepard would want from them all. She'd want them to do everything they could to keep hope alive in post-war to make sure all the sacrifices made weren't in vain.

Not just the sacrifices of the soldiers on the frontlines or their friends, but the lives lost against Saren, the colonists the Collectors harvested, the Batarians lost in the Alpha Relay incident and every other species that the Reapers harvested.

For all of those lives, for Thane, Mordin and Legion, they had to keep hope alive and the peace earned from fading. Doing so would be the final middle finger to those Reaper bastards.

The doors to Shepard's room hissed opened, drawing both Kasumi's and Jack's attention to the three nurses departing from the room. None of them acknowledged the pair, too caught up in their own conversation about what they needed to get done to notice them.

When the doors shut without Miranda exiting, Jack decided to take this opportunity to check on Shepard and make her presence known to the Cheerleader.

Before she left, Jack lightly jabbed the thief in the shoulder in a show of camaraderie. "Chin up, Kasumi. Shepard and the others will be fine," she said while standing up.

"I know. Do I need to referee your conversation so you don't smear the walls with each other," Kasumi teased.

Jack rolled her eyes at the comment but still smiled at the reminder of the past argument.

_Feels like a different life._

Perhaps it was. The person she was now was hardly the same selfish, angry, vindictive woman she had been back then. She was still a badass, that'd never change, but thanks to Shepard and her students she managed to mature and grow in a way she never expected.

"Nah, we'll be fine," she waved off the thief's tease.

"That's what worries me. I'm not used to you two being so civil. I feel like it's just letting the tension build for a bigger fight. It's either that or the coming storm of the sexual tension finally snapping between you two." Kasumi shrugged helplessly. "To be honest, I'm not sure which one I'm more afraid of walking in on."

"Never going to happen, Kasumi," Jack responded with another roll of her eyes.

The two biotic's could coexist just fine, so no worries about a fight. And there was definitely no possibility of sexual tension snapping since it didn't exist.

"Stranger things have happened. There's the cure for the Genophage, peace between the Quarians and Geth, you and Miranda being civil," Kasumi pointed out.

Jack's lips curled into a heavily dissatisfied frown as if she had experienced something extremely vulgar. As much as she _despised_ admitting it, Kasumi was right, stranger things _had_ in fact happened since the Suicide Mission; things that every single one of them had never expected to happen in their lifetime or at all.

But there was no way, no _fucking_ way, she was admitting that out loud, good point be damned.

"Kasumi…" Jack tried to formulate a response but found she could only sigh in defeat and shake her head. _Nothing I say will help. Not even threatening her will._

Kasumi had planned responses locked, cocked and ready to fire to anything she might try to say at this point; each ready to drag this out a little longer until her defeat was so insurmountable, the only way she could win would be smearing the Cheerleader across the walls.

No one wanted that, not even Jack. When it came to Shepard and Kasumi, sometimes you just had to know when to fold and back away from the table. This was one of those times.

"I think I'm going to destroy those books of yours. They're a bad influence."

Her response earned a feigned gasp. "Leave my innocent books out of this! They never harmed anyone!"

"Uh-huh," Jack drawled. "Anyway, I'll be right back."

It was time to see the Cheerleader and Girl Scout. Honestly, the state Shepard might be in beyond the door made her hesitant to enter.

Nothing during the Suicide Mission or the encounters she had with Shepard afterwards ever knocked the N7 down and out. Shepard was someone who would find a way to stand up on two broken legs and still win a fight.

Her current state would never reflect the remarkable strength everyone knew her for; her current state would reflect the human underneath the armor and legend, the one who hadn't ever stopped to heal her wounds because she was too busy pulling someone else out of the fire.

But…Jack needed to see Shepard again. She needed to see with her own eyes that Shepard was still among the living to reaffirm her belief in there being a chance to save her. Even if she was unconscious and seriously injured, just visually seeing she was being taken care of and had a heartbeat would keep her hopes alight.

Beyond seeing her to keep her own hopes burning, Jack needed to see her situation with both eyes open to remove the fog of ignorance from her vision and understand how long it would take her to recover. Understanding that would allow her to process it all on a personal level and then start the process of forging a better support structure for the team.

By all estimates she wasn't exactly the one anyone would expect that from, but Jack knew she could do it and that it was needed. The facts were Shepard was down and out already, and the stresses of post-war had already sunk in with her. Veterans like Zaeed and thinkers like Miranda would know it and feel it too.

With their leader out of commission, someone had to consider how best to keep the team from losing hope and keep pushing them to get some fresh air…or Citadel recycled air. Fuck it, semantics didn't matter. The point was to get them out of this stressful environment now and then to do something other than worry about their Commander.

It was kind of like being a teacher for the Grissom Academy students. During their time together she had to learn their different personalities, their level of skill and their weaknesses.

Without any of that information she was useless as a teacher. She'd only be an overpowered biotic who didn't do anything to help her young students grow into their abilities. With the information, however, she could help guide them via her unorthodox teaching methods.

The same went for the current situation. Learning what state Shepard was in and how long her road to recovery was would give her the tools necessary to lock-on to her goal and keep the support structure for their team strong.

Of course, it'd also be really helpful for some of the others to show up; their survival would provide a morale boost among the team and give them an even stronger chain to hold onto.

Plus, she couldn't be here all the time to kick ass. She needed to be with her students as well and keep them safe and their morale from falling too. Having others to rely on to keep the Normandy team's hopes alive in her stead would be a huge burden of worry off her chest.

Unfortunately, their arrival wasn't something she could control. She couldn't just click her heels and clap her hands to have them magically appear, which meant she couldn't spare any of her thoughts to it.

_They'll arrive when they arrive._

What she could control was the immediate situation, both her reaction to Shepard's state and the structure of support between herself and her students, as well as herself and the two other Normandy team members here.

_Whatever state she's in, it won't be the worst thing I've ever seen...but it'll still hurt._ What started as a reassurance ended on an honest note Jack forced herself to confront. While it was true she had seen a lot of nightmarish shit in her life, this was different for one huge reason: this time she had a connection with the person hanging between life and death.

That reason alone was something she had to force herself to understand before walking in those doors. Yes, she was tough and had a lot of defenses guarding her heart, but this was a situation just like learning what happened to Thane, Legion and Mordin…and EDI.

It would hurt no matter what because this was someone she cared about.

Mentally preparing herself, Jack took a deep breath to fight off the hesitation keeping her from opening the door the moment she reached it. The one thing that managed to keep her calm was knowing Miranda was in there working to keep Shepard alive.

_If anyone can do it, it's her._ The tattooed biotic squared her shoulders and reached out to open the door. _All right, let's get this done and over with._

The doors hissed open and Jack stepped through, easily spotting Miranda standing with her back turned to her as she studied a data-pad with Shepard's unconscious form lying in the bed next to her.

The former Cerberus operative still wore her familiar white and black cat suit, albeit absent of the Cerberus logo it once bore, thankfully. Her raven hair appeared untouched, though it was easy to see she had made a habit of running her hand through it lately.

_And her bubbly butt is still on display for everyone to see_, Jack thought with a roll of her eyes, though they may have lingered longer than she intended.

"Cheerleader, still wearing that ridiculous cat suit, I see. Giving all the refugees a morality boost?" she greeted, ignoring Shepard's body and where her eyes had trailed.

A humored snort echoed out of the raven-haired woman, who didn't even bother to turn around at the greeting. "I thought I heard your voice out there. Though I must say I'm surprised you managed to get in without raised voices, threats or violence. Well done."

_Heh, still has her bite, too_, Jack thought, a pleasant smirk lifting the corner of her lips up. _Good. Just as I remembered her._

Miranda raised her eyes to the machine in front of her to press a few buttons on it before turning around to finally look at Jack. Her eyes trailed up and down the tattooed biotic, examining her from her head to her toes in a clinical fashion before sharing a genuine smile with her.

"I'm also glad to see you kept your reckless tendencies in check to keep yourself alive and completely uninjured."

"Ha!" Jack barked a cocky laugh to conceal the sudden flutter that smile gave her. "As if I'd let those assholes get the better of me. Then who'd be here to keep your ego in check?"

"_My_ ego?" Miranda retorted through a laugh.

Another flutter.

"Yeah, your ego," Jack fired back, falling easily back into their familiar banter while simultaneously ignoring the second flutter. "Without me here you'd have to worry more about your head fitting through doorways instead of your bubbly butt."

"Mmhm," she hummed in a placating manor, her smile remaining on her face. "I think you may need to consider the danger of your head fitting through doorways at this rate. Don't want your ponytail to get caught on your way out."

"Your doctoral recommendation?"

"No, just free advice. Consider it a welcome back gift."

"Heh. Well I didn't know I was supposed to bring gifts, so here's a free one." Jack lifted her hand up and gave her the finger.

Miranda merely smirked and rolled her eyes at the gesture. "Glad to see you haven't changed one bit."

"Right back at you, Cheerleader," Jack shot back.

From the outside, their verbal duel appeared to be full of poisoned lances and hateful barbs meant to harm the other or piss them off. This greeting, as strange it seemed to outsiders, was the equivalent of a hug between the pair.

The words they shared, the smirks and smiles, even the tones of their voices revealed the hints of happiness at seeing one another alive again. Not a single word held an ounce of venom; instead each joust was fuel to the fire of comforting familiarity after everything they went through.

Awkward as it was for her to admit it, Jack was happy to see Miranda unharmed and still full of the same spirit she remembered.

Within her heart she worried about everyone, including herself, being changed for the worse by the war. It wasn't impossible. Any one of them could've seen something or had to do something that caused them an immense amount of trauma they could never recover from.

She personally could've lost a student—or several. They could've all lost another friend during the final push of the war. Miranda could've lost her sister because of her father or Cerberus. _Speaking of which…_

"Hey, did your sister make it out okay?" she asked, her voice softened by the serious nature of her question.

Oriana, Miranda's little sister, was as precious to her as the Grissom Academy students were to Jack. For all the flaws Miranda had during the Suicide Mission, one of the things the tattooed biotic eventually learned to respect about her after parting ways was her protective nature for her sister.

Doing everything possible to keep her hidden from her psycho father, going so far to keep herself out of her life so she could live the normal life she was deprived of despite loving her dearly, it was one of the most selfless things Miranda had ever done.

Of course they eventually met after her father tried to kidnap Oriana via Eclipse mercenaries and an asshole former friend, but them finally meeting each other was for the best.

Shepard had put it best that day, _"I know you're trying to do what you think is best for her, and I respect your readiness to put her needs before what your heart wants, but will it really hurt her to know she has an older sister who loves her?"_

"_I…I suppose not."_

Her return from meeting her sister was the first and only time she had seen tears of joy—and tears in general—from Miranda. Back then Jack kept up her tough and apathetic exterior, but she remained silent the whole way back to the Normandy. By all means it would've been a perfect opportunity to throw some rough blows, yet she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Why? Maybe she was just having an off day. Or maybe she was touched by the moment of genuine vulnerability from someone who had, up to that point, only proved to be an icy bitch working for the biggest asshole in the galaxy.

Jack wouldn't say which, but she knew in her heart the truth. From where she stood today compared to then, the answer was as clear as the icy blue eyes staring at her.

Surprise flashed within Miranda's blue orbs at the question pointed to her before it disappeared. She nodded. "Yes, she did. She's here on the Citadel helping the refugees where she can."

Jack nodded slowly. "That's great."

Dismissing the answer as if it wasn't big news to keep up appearances would've been all too easy, but she wouldn't push aside such good news as nothing, especially since it revolved around such an important person to her comrade.

One of Miranda's main reasons for fighting in the war was for her sister's future. The same could be said for Jack when it came to her students. To brush off something as important as that wasn't just wrong, it was downright insulting.

"What about your students? Are they all well?" Miranda asked in return, her voice noticeably softer in what could easily be fear of the possibilities.

Jack couldn't blame her, definitely since she had done the same. Asking after people important to their comrades when it was a fifty/fifty chance of grim news wasn't easy; asking when there were several students had to be harder.

The room for error or loss was much larger.

Jack dipped her head in a small nod and sauntered to the bed to lean forward on it, her eyes still remaining on Miranda instead of Shepard. "Yeah. All alive, unharmed and already planning to help the relief effort here on the Citadel."

A frown creased her lips at the thought of them jumping in head first without her supervision. She knew it was the right thing to do, but that didn't mean she liked it.

Keeping them safe during the war hadn't been as difficult as it could have been considering they hadn't been pushed to the frontlines, but it was by no means a cake walk like she pretended it had been.

Reaper forces were tough to kill, and their seemingly infinite reinforcements never ceased to piss her off. Being in the back ranks didn't mean no contact with the Reapers. Hell, by the end of the war their position in the back ranks became the frontlines.

To survive that and then have no choice but to let them help the much needed recovery effort felt like she was throwing them right back into the fire.

_The responsibilities shouldn't fall on them_, Jack thought. She sighed internally and lowered her eyes. _But that's just the way it is. Can't be helped. I just have to keep my eyes on them and keep them safe._

"…It's…hard to let them do it, isn't it?"

Miranda's voice brought Jack's attention back to her to find the usual air of confidence surrounding her gone and her eyes dropped to the floor. Never before did the tattooed biotic think they'd find common ground on anything, but as Kasumi pointed out, stranger things had occurred in the last several months.

The pair finding common ground here and now was just further proof to her point.

Her words were more of a question than a statement, hoping to be given the reassurance that she wasn't alone in her struggle of letting her young and eager charge to go out there without complete supervision.

They were like worried parents watching from the inside of their houses as their children rode bicycles outside without their training wheels on. Deep down they never wanted them to grow or take away the safety nets keeping them from getting hurt, but what choice did they have outside of clipping their wings completely?

Life was full of dangers around every corner. They couldn't shelter them and hold their hands forever, no matter how much they wished to.

"Yeah," she admitted. "They just survived that fucking war and the first thing they want to do is volunteer for dangerous work. I want… " The biotic stopped herself and shot her eyes to the opposite side of the room in discomfort of nearly spilling her feelings to the Cheerleader.

"You want to tell them there are still dangers out there and the reality of post-war…you just can't find the words for it."

The softness of her voice made it clear Miranda was speaking as much for herself as she was for her tattooed counterpart. Jack still gave a faint nod. _That's exactly it._

She wanted to shove them all into a safe room and lock the door behind her so none of the dangers still lurking out there could harm them. She wanted to explain the uphill climb ahead of them in this new post-war environment. But she couldn't.

"Because they need us to believe in them, and the future," Jack said mostly to herself.

Whether intentionally or not, Shepard had taught her the importance of believing in the abilities of her team and the possibilities of a good future. It was one of the reasons Jack had ended up a teacher instead of back on the run from bounty hunters and Cerberus after the Suicide Mission.

Despite her history and attitude, Shepard never gave up on her crusade to get Jack to let go of her past and move towards a better future. Was the military her first option? Hell no. That was Shepard's fantasy. But would Jack change where she ended up? Absolutely not. Because of Shepard's lessons she found a new path, one that allowed her to actually be happy.

That's what she wanted the future to be like for her students. She wanted them to be able to follow their own paths and find their own happiness just as she did. No doubt Miranda wanted the same for Oriana.

To keep her students, Oriana, even the Normandy team from giving up meant they had to believe they could fix what was broken. Simply giving up or being too cynical in front of them would deflate their hopes at FTL speeds.

Oddly enough, it felt good to at least voice the fears with someone who understood what she was feeling. But remembering she was having this rather deep discussion with Miranda snapped Jack out of her thoughts in sheer embarrassment for talking about her feelings with another person.

_What the hell is my deal lately?_ First the flutters and now this? Jack turned her head away from Miranda to conceal her blush and embarrassed feelings. _Maybe I have a concussion._ That'd make sense if not for Grissom's examine confirming her healthy state.

In reality there was only one person to blame: the Cheerleader. It was her who caused this to happen by seeking out her initial reassurance from the tattooed biotic. All with those worried blue eyes and that smile before... _Ugh. I think my migraine is making me think like an idiot._

An easy excuse to convince herself of.

Jack released a frustrated breath and straitened her posture to confront Miranda about this little feelings fest they were having. "Damn it, Cheerleader. When did we start talking about deep shit like this with each other?"

Because it was fucking weird. They of all people _never_ had conversations like this with anyone. Miranda was just as bad at being normal with emotions as Jack herself was. Yet here they were, actually discussing something real and personal to them like they were best friends forever.

_Argh, Shepard just had to go and soften us both up._

Her question paired with her annoyed and somewhat conflicted look made Miranda cock an eyebrow up in amusement as she fought to keep her lips from twitching upwards. "I don't know, but is it really all that bad?"

"Yes! No…I don't fucking know."

It wasn't like either of them ever lowered their defenses to openly share their wants, hopes or fears with anyone. They kept all of their feelings locked up so no one could hurt them ever again…At least, that was how they were before meeting Shepard. Because of the N7 they were able to make friends, forge bonds and eventually learn to trust each other after hating one another for so long.

So was it bad for them to have an honest conversation? No, not really. It was probably more helpful than they'd admit to find understanding and reassurance in their similar situation. But was it abnormal and giving Jack an uncomfortable knot she couldn't untie by sheer force alone? Absolutely.

Jack placed a hand against her face and let it slide down as she let out a groan. "Can we just move on, please?"

This was _way_ too awkward for her to deal with right now, and her migraine really was returning. Whether that was because the medication was wearing off quicker than she expected or because all of her recent interactions were pulling it back from the depths was beyond her.

"Well since you asked so nicely, certainly," Miranda jested. "Anything in particular you want to know?"

Letting her hand fall back to her side, Jack leaned back onto the bed and steeled herself to finally look at Shepard. After a small inhale, she let her eyes glide over her body, taking in every detail of her current condition. The sight she saw caused a sad sigh to escape her.

Painful burns discolored her fair skin around her eyes, cuts were healing on her face and an oxygen mask was placed over her mouth and nose. From there it didn't get much better. Bandages covered almost every inch of her upper body as well as the top of her head. Medical tubes pumped whatever fluids were necessary to keep her alive.

While it wasn't as bad as she expected, it wasn't exactly good either.

"What the hell happened to her?" she finally found her voice.

"Besides being nearly incinerated by a Reaper beam, shot in the shoulder and earning a broken leg?" Jack's wide eyes snapped to Miranda at the serious answer, only to find she was staring at Shepard as she spoke. "Simply put, we're lucky Bailey made finding her a priority, otherwise we would already be mourning both her and Anderson."

The honesty of that answer left Jack without words or curses to respond with. Fortunately, Miranda continued without coaxing. "Shepard's will carried her through hell even when her body was failing her to stop the Reapers and save us all. Her current state," she motioned to the unconscious woman, "is the result of that. As bad as it might seem, this is actually an improvement from when they found her."

Jack decided against asking how bad Shepard's state was before if looking like a partly unwrapped mummy counted as an improvement. Some things were better left unsaid.

"Oh," Miranda's eyes lit up as she looked back to Jack. "You'll be happy to know the Illusive Man is dead, apparently by his own hand. They found his corpse by Anderson."

Jack's eyebrows rose for a moment in surprise at the news then returned to their natural state as she gave a sharp nod. "Good."

She didn't much care how he died, just that he was dead. In her eyes, his death was long overdue. From his fucked up pet projects like the Teltin Facility and Project Overlord to trying to kidnap her students and implanting his soldiers with Reaper tech—_because that's not going to bite you in the ass_—he had caused far too much pain in this galaxy.

To hear he ate a bullet removed a huge weight off her shoulders.

_Finally_ the person who had stolen children like her for messed up experiments in the name of "the betterment of humanity" was dead.

Finally she didn't have to hold onto that dark, poisonous anger Cerberus instilled into her because their organization was in shambles after everything Shepard had done.

Finally she could be free of the burden of knowing the man behind all of her pain and the pain of the other kids in that dreaded facility was dead.

"Good," she said again, feeling a wave of relief from the news.

Miranda offered a small nod in return. "Happy to pass on the news. As for Shepard and Anderson…" Miranda returned her focus to the unconscious redhead. "Doctors have been working on them since they were found. People have been generous to give them the blood they need, and thus far their injuries are healing at a steady rate."

"Mm. But a long road ahead regardless," Jack stated

"Yes. There's no getting around it with what damage they sustained. And that's ignoring Shepard's _other_ injuries she kept hidden from Doctor Chakwas."

The tattooed biotic quirked an eyebrow up at how pointed that statement seemed towards Shepard but received no answer from Miranda. She let it be, mostly because she was pleased to hear the confidence in the raven-haired woman's voice on their recovery.

Nothing in her voice revealed even the slightest hint of fear that they might not be able to successfully save either person. That alone ironed out a lot of her fears and reaffirmed Jack's own confidence on Shepard's situation.

_Got a long road ahead of us, but at least there is hope_, Jack thought, shutting her eyes as she exhaled in relief.

There was hope for Shepard, for Anderson, for the missing Normandy team members, for the future. That hope had remained out of reach of her since the end of the war, but with the help of the N7 Talons and the reunion with Kahlee, Kasumi and Miranda, Jack could finally firmly grasp those hopes in her hands.

"Has anyone told you lately that you look exhausted?"

"Heh," Jack breathed out a laugh and nodded with her eyes still closed. _I must look like shit._ "Actually, yeah. A Drell doctor on the ship I traveled on to get here told me I needed to get some sleep."

She had done well to ignore her exhaustion thus far, but she could feel herself on a steady decline with each minute that passed. An easy solution would be to listen to her body and the doctoral recommendation from Grissom, but no one ever said she wasn't a stubborn bitch.

"Have you had troubles sleeping?"

"Nothing to worry about, Cheerleader," Jack quickly deflected. No sense in jumping into another conversation about the stresses keeping her awake or the nightmarish shit she saw on Earth. It'd only keep her from finding any sleep later. "Just had a lot on my mind on the trip here."

"I see. Well, if you want quiet and uninterrupted sleep, Kasumi and I have been working on cleaning up Shepard's apartment when we aren't here. We have a bedroom and couch open."

All things considered, the offer sounded really good right about now, but… "And if I crash there, where are you or Kasumi going to sleep?" Jack questioned, opening her eyes to meet Miranda's. Nice as a bed or couch would be, she wasn't going to be inconsiderate to the needs of the team when she could easily find a place with her students.

"I'm staying with my sister elsewhere," Miranda answered easily.

Her lack of elaboration of _where_ exactly she and her sister were staying didn't go unnoticed by Jack, but she took no offense. It was just habit of the Cheerleader to be protective of her sister's whereabouts just as it was habit for Kasumi to conceal her face among friends.

Neither of them did it out of lack of trust of the team; those matters were just extremely personal to them and would require a strong connection, and probably intimacy, for them to reveal it.

"All right," Jack said at length, straightening her posture again in preparation for her departure. A quick nap wouldn't hurt. It'd help her knock this migraine out for good and regain some of her energy before meeting up with her students. "Think I'll go rest a bit before regrouping with Kahlee and my students." She took a few steps towards the door to leave, but stopped and turned her head back to Miranda.

There were things she could say, wanted to say really. A thanks for the talk since it helped ease her nerves; some kind of words to tell her she was happy that she survived. But those words of gratitude and unguarded emotions were giant boulders being pushed through a small passageway. No matter how hard she tried to push them out, they never went anywhere.

"Keep her alive, Cheerleader," she said in their stead, offering a small nod with the words in hope they'd get her unspoken feelings across.

Miranda returned her nod with her own. "I will. Be careful out there, Jack."

Jack waved her off and made her way to the door. "Yeah, yeah. I know."

Nonchalance, that was easy to exude even as she was internally warring with herself over being such a coward. They were just words and feelings. It wasn't a giant Reaper she had to overcome alone with nothing but her strength…yet it always felt that way.

With Miranda it was even harder, but Jack pushed those thoughts off and away so she didn't end up going insane through an internal screaming match between her past and present selves. She already had a lingering migraine. No sense in giving it extra fuel to burn away any chance of sleep.

After temporarily saying farewell to Kasumi as well, and promising she'd be back, the tattooed biotic made the long, winding walk through the war-torn Citadel to the Tiberius Towers where Shepard's apartment waited.

The walk was…enlightening, to say the least. Everywhere she looked she saw groups of repair teams, refugees and other members of the population all working together or showing compassion towards one another in an abundance previously thought impossible.

By the time Jack made it to the apartment, stripped off her jacket and crashed onto the couch, she no longer felt overwhelming fear or stress. Instead she felt content and hopeful for the future—strange feelings overall for her, but they were there and she didn't question it.

She had seen and heard Miranda's confidence; she had witnessed Ghost's belief in a brighter future and had seen people of all races working together both during the war and now after it.

"_Everything that was broken can be fixed, renewed. Old wounds have healed, and in time the new wounds will, too."_

Ghost's words eased her tension just enough for her to find comfort on the couch with a pillow stuffed under her arm. _He's right._ What had been broken in this galaxy could be fixed and renewed. Old wounds had in fact healed. There was no questioning those facts, not when she was living proof of it.

"_The war isn't the end. It's a new beginning for us all. A new journey to experience."_

Jack exhaled deeply and felt sleep pull her deeper into peace. Her previous fears and migraine slowly disappeared in a figurative wind.

_A new journey…_

She liked the sound of it. There was no telling what her new journey was going to be like, but as long as her kids and her friends were a part of it, she didn't care what struggles were ahead on them.

The only thing that lingered in her thoughts in the moments before sleep took her was the awkward flutters she had from being around Miranda again. Seeing her smile again, hearing her laugh, sharing in their verbal jousting, all of it gave her a warm feeling she didn't understand.

Sleep claimed her before she could try to contemplate it, but not before another warm flutter at the thought of her smile eased her into the slumber.

* * *

Several Hours Later

* * *

It was well into the night cycle on the Citadel when Miranda released a yawn on her walk back from Huerta. Sleep called her name after another day of voluntary long hours applying treatments to Shepard and monitoring her progress.

With the exception of fixing up the apartment and spending time with Oriana, spending her time at the hospital within Shepard's room was one of the better ways to keep herself busy.

Her talents were useful there, and being her lead doctor granted Miranda peace of mind knowing some idiot wouldn't be able to accidently or intentionally harm the N7 when she was vulnerable.

Working these long hours also ensured reporters wouldn't be skulking around the hospital or just outside of it to bother her. To be frank, she had neither the time nor the patience to play nice. Yes, she worked for Cerberus and they had done many terrible things both before the war and after. But she took no part in those projects. She did good work, namely reviving the very commander who would eventually save them all.

Unfortunately for her, facts like those didn't matter in times of tragedy when hundreds of loved ones perished at the hands of Cerberus.

_I just have to maintain a low profile as often as I can. For Ori's sake and my own._ Only until she was certain there would be no legal repercussions for her past associations. After that…she supposed she'd have to find some sort of occupation besides being Shepard's doctor. That was Chakwas's job, after all.

_I'm not even sure what I'll be able do, if I'm honest. I'm not sure I'd even like a normal job…or if anyone would hire me._ Time, hopefully, would one day make her past affiliation with Cerberus a whisper no one could hear. Or, a bigger hope, her actions in saving Shepard before the war, her actions during the war and those after would wash it all away.

Miranda didn't regret what she personally accomplished in Cerberus, specifically her work on Shepard, but after seeing the Teltin Facility firsthand and David in Project Overlord…

_"Please, make it stop."_

A shiver worked its way down Miranda's spine at the memory of David's pleading voice. She could still see his nude body hanging in that machine like he was being put through the historical human execution style of crucifixion. The nodules and wires lining his arms, the tubes shoved down his open mouth, forcing it to remain open just like the silver metal claws keeping his eye lids from shutting… There was no excuse for that. Or for the Teltin Facility.

If the wholesale torture of children and stringing up an autistic young man was what Cerberus was willing to do in the name of humanity then there was _literally_ nothing they wouldn't do. The Illusive Man proved that point by implanting his soldiers with Reaper tech and through what he had done at Sanctuary with her father.

Advancing the human race was important, but at what cost? Truly, how much blood could they be soaked in until they dared to question if what they were doing went too far?

Were they really willing to sacrifice the humanity of the human race just to be more advanced?

Were they really able to justify the killing of innocent people, human or alien, all for their goal?

Based on what she had seen, the answer was a simple yes. An answer she had been so blind to during her time within the organization. Her father, the Illusive Man, they were truly one in the same. Both were egomaniacs who didn't care how many lives they ruined or the insanity they pursued on the path towards their goal.

_They're dead_, Miranda reminded herself to calm the waves of anger beginning to crash within her heart._ They can't harm anyone anymore._ A sad frown creased her lips at her final thought.

True as the statement was, it wouldn't give comfort or solace to the victims of their actions. Their deaths hadn't and wouldn't bring back those who died or were transformed at Sanctuary…nor would it ever give back the childhood Jack had stolen from her or take away the memories of the torture.

_…But maybe it will give her some peace._ She hoped it would. Whether or not the Illusive Man authorized the Teltin Facility didn't matter, and to be honest she doubted he was against it after seeing his handiwork with David and Sanctuary.

What mattered was his organization authorized Jack's pain. Cerberus tortured her and killed countless other children to twist her into an ultimate weapon. With him dead Jack could find some peace…hopefully.

_Maybe she'll be able to finally close that chapter of her life for good like I was able to with my father._

Was it hoping for too much? Possibly. But it was still worth a shot. Finally killing her father—an action she didn't regret after everything he did and tried to do—eased a burden she carried for a long time.

The look in Jack's eyes when she fully processed the news seemed like one of closure, but Miranda wasn't sure. Usually Jack was easy to read. _She lets you know where you stand, that's for sure_, she thought with a humored chuckle.

Still, there was a lot of history and emotions for her to sift through with that news. She seemed happy, though. That counted for something.

_I was…happy to pass on the news…and to see her._ It'd be easy to say her happiness was for seeing another comrade alive—which did make her happy. However it was more personal than that.

In the quiet recesses of her heart and mind where her conscious mind didn't travel often she could freely admit to being worried specifically about Jack. Their relationship, as hard as it was to admit, actually meant something to her.

_Try not to get yourself killed, Jack. You have people who care if you die._

A simple message veiled by their usual attitudes to cover up the fact she cared. She'd never admit it freely, but Jack had become important to her just like the other members of the Normandy team. Their time spent together in the Combat Simulator with Shepard and at the party turned what had once been a fiery rivalry into a close camaraderie bordering on full-fledged friendship.

Where they had once been the incarnations of ice and fire with deep resentment towards one another, they now actually got along. Their verbal duels were fun and fulfilling; their teamwork in the field was devastating and made them a force to be reckoned with.

Miranda had even come to respect and trust Jack. Her strength was undeniable, exceeding her own in all honesty, but her growth as an individual was something she deeply admired.

No one, outside of maybe Shepard, ever would have believed Jack would change from being an aggressive, maladjusted lone wolf into a teacher of young teenagers, far calmer and downright affectionate to those kids.

The scars she was given as a child, the life she lived afterwards, they were what she had become defined by. For her to grow beyond that long and dark shadow that had chased her for so long…it wasn't just admirable, it filled Miranda with hope that she too could grow beyond her past.

Admitting that to her face proved to be one of her greatest challenges, yet it felt good to be honest about it. Admitting her admiration while silently admitting her inadequacy helped lift some of the burdens of her insecurities and mistakes off her shoulders so she could begin to move forward.

"_Wow. Thanks."_ The waver of shock and emotion in her voice was all Miranda needed to hear to know Jack did appreciate her words. _"I still really hate you, but you have fantastic tits."_

That last part was classic Jack putting up her defenses while accidently offering an honest compliment.

Remembering it earned an amused snort out of the former Cerberus operative on her walk. _I didn't realize she approved, but I can live with that._

She could also live with Jack concealing her true feelings with that guarded remark. At the end of the day, they weren't so different when it came to letting down their guard with another person. Even if they had both grown a lot from where they had started before the Suicide Mission, they both still had plenty of room to grow.

_Might happen sooner than I expect if our interactions today were anything to go by._

Their beginning banter had been fun, giving her a pleasant feeling of familiarity she longed to have in this sea of unknowns they were swimming in. Neither of them could have lost that duel, not when they were both reveling internally over seeing each other again alive and well.

For Jack to ask voluntarily about her sister's safety and genuinely care about the answer…it was nice. It caught her off guard, but it was still nice. Oriana meant everything to her and her survival had been all that mattered. Even if she had to die to keep her alive in the final moments of the war, she would have done it.

_Just like Jack would have for her students._

Miranda had worried about them being down there on Earth fighting against the never ending hordes of Reapers. Biotically gifted as they were, her students were still kids who hadn't had enough time and training as Jack, Miranda, Shepard or any of the other human biotics on the Normandy team.

Thankfully that fear could now recede like the sun departing beyond the horizon. _So long as they don't get hurt during the recovery effort._

Sharing their fears for the people they cared about eased a little of her nerves. Their words didn't change that her sister and Jack's students would go out and help the recovery effort; they'd still stubbornly do what they could to help.

But having someone who understood her fears because they were feeling them too and being able to express them made the burden a bit easier to bear. Granted she never expected to have such a conversation with Jack, but sometimes unexpected surprises were far more pleasant than a previous expectation.

The hiss of the doors opening to Shepard's apartment broke through the relative silence of her walk to bring her thoughts back to her current mission. Miranda hadn't lied to Jack about where she was staying; she truly was staying with Oriana elsewhere. Coming here was just a stop she needed to make before retiring for the night.

The apartment was absent of light, save for the dim glow of the artificial fireplace flickering in the main room. _Hmm. Seems they must have gotten a generator working, or perhaps the Keepers helped restore power to this part of the grid._

Both were highly possible and something she would look into later. Regardless of the reason, the result was promising and had brought the temperature of the room down to a comfortable level.

Silence permeated throughout it, where if a pin dropped on the upper floor in Shepard's bedroom, Miranda knew she could have heard it even without enhanced hearing.

_I'll have to be quick and quiet._ High heels normally would have made those goals impossible, but Miranda had learned during her tenure in Cerberus how to silence her footsteps without sacrificing her speed in her heels. She was one of the best operatives, after all.

Silently she walked in the shadows towards the long couch in the main room, her footsteps light and her breathing calm and even to not disturb anything within the apartment.

Upon reaching the couch, she peered down to find Jack lying on her side, passed out with an arm under a pillow as she slept soundly. Her jacket was folded on the floor next to her, revealing the plethora of tattoos covering her arms as her white top left the tattoos across her midriff and upper chest out in the open.

Miranda quietly admired the tattoos for a moment, tracing along the different designs, colors and scars illuminated by the holographic fire with her eyes. _Each as colorful and full of pain as her past is._ Despite that truth, the former Cerberus operative found the tattoos to be beautiful, and the scars to be gut-wrenching.

Unconsciously she reached a gloved hand out to trace her fingers across the tattoos, but rationality pulled her hand back before she could touch the sleeping woman. _I shouldn't disturb her._ She shouldn't have tried to touch her either, but she attributed that lack of logic to being tired and working with an unconscious patient all day.

She left Jack undisturbed as she made her way down the nearby hall towards the first bedroom in search of Kasumi. The room was empty when she entered, bringing forth a sigh from Miranda. _Kasumi…She must be back in Shepard's hospital room right now._

Sighing again, this time in defeat, Miranda made her way towards the closet in search of a small blanket. She'd have to figure out some way to catch the elusive thief when she wasn't busy and scold her for ignoring her advice to get adequate rest. _I might even have to threaten to sedate her…again._

It had once been her go to threat back during the Suicide Mission when the thief and N7 were causing trouble. Perhaps it would get Kasumi to listen this time, too.

Miranda grabbed a spare, light blanket and silently made her way back to the couch, where she proceeded to cover up Jack's sleeping form as gently as possible so she did not disturb her. Her heart jumped into her throat when the tattooed biotic turned onto her back, but relaxed when she didn't open her eyes or wake up.

_Too close._ She kept her exhale of relief internalized as she finished covering the woman and took a step away. Her whole reason for stopping here was just to ensure Kasumi and Jack had taken time to rest. It was her duty as their comrade and the one doctor among them to keep her eye on everyone.

The blanket was just a part of that, she justified to herself. Miranda spared one last look at Jack's peaceful form before making a silent exit.

_Strange as it is to say…I'm happy to see you again, Jack._

She hoped the feeling was mutual.


	6. Chapter 6: Perfection Discarded

Chapter 6

Perfection Discarded

Miranda was absolutely furious with herself. She had run countless scenarios for every conceivable mistake that could be made by a nurse or doctor; she even set aside time to make preparations for them as if they were inevitable.

Yet never once did Miranda even think to consider any mistakes _she_ might make in Shepard's recovery. Never once did she set aside time to prepare for her supposed perfection to fail.

_How did I miss the signs?_

The question had been ricocheting obnoxiously in her mind ever since the incident happened. Even now, days later, she couldn't stop asking herself the same damned question.

_How did I miss the signs?_

The words were so simple to say and even sounded simple to answer, however Miranda could find no appropriate answer for the question. She had no excuses to fall back on. She had no one to push the blame onto.

No, she could only point the finger at herself for failing so miserably as a doctor and as a friend.

Her failure was unacceptable. The entire incident should've never been allowed to happen in the first place. Shepard's recovery was meant to go perfectly. That's why she went over every single minor detail on Shepard's recovery with a magnifying lens no matter how insignificant it seemed to everyone else.

Shepard had done so much for her since they met. She helped her save her sister from her father on two occasions; she gave her the chance to actually be involved in her sister's life; she warned her of Kai Leng and saved her life by doing so. She even gave her the courage to stop running and saved them all from the Reapers.

At the very least Miranda could give her a perfect recovery and one last chance at a peaceful life. Yet…despite preparing for almost every failure, despite trying her hardest to achieve perfection for the sake of her truest friend, Shepard still nearly died because of something she must have glazed over.

That had to be the reason why this all happened. She must have been too arrogant or too blindly optimistic about her recovery that she glazed over the necessary information like it was inconsequential.

_This was my fault, it had to be._

She was the one in charge, she was the one who marched in confidently and took control of the situation because of her experience with reviving Shepard. The responsibility of this failure fell on her shoulders and hers alone. Now it fell to her to learn from the mistake and move past it so something like this never happened again.

Still, the promise to learn and move forward was not enough to soothe Miranda's fury or her disappointment towards herself. She had read through all of the reports leading up to the incident and she still hadn't found the original mistake she obviously missed.

Her eyes must still be skipping over it like it was insignificant; a thought which furthered her anger.

Even when good things were happening around her—such as the arrival of Zaeed, Grunt and Samara on the Citadel—she couldn't stop berating herself for almost costing them the person who brought them together in the first place.

How could she let it happen? She promised herself and the others everything would go smoothly, perfectly. Sure it would be a long road of recovery, but she had been one hundred percent confident in their ability to bring Shepard back.

Now she was only confident in her title as the perfect failure rather than the perfect human.

That's all she had ever been, hadn't it? A failure as a perfect specimen. A failure as a daughter. A failure as a sister. A failure as a friend. Nothing she was involved in ever ended perfectly. Everything she touched ended up in a hundred skycar pileup at some point.

So why did she even believe she could be the one to bring Shepard back a second time?

Of course no one blamed her for the incident. Every single doctor, nurse and comrade believed the incident an unpreventable event no one could have seen coming, and that it was only through her efforts they managed to keep the N7 from death.

Miranda couldn't let herself believe that. She didn't care that Shepard was stabilized now or for her involvement in it.

Shepard shouldn't have almost died in the first place.

_I should've been more alert, more conscious of every single detail on her status._ Miranda let out an agitated growl and continued pacing a rut in Shepard's room as her eyes scanned the data-pad on Shepard's condition leading up to her brush with death.

She still couldn't find it. Where the hell was it? Why couldn't she find any sign of her mistake? It was here somewhere, probably so blatantly obvious that when she finally read it she'd want to crush the data-pad and then ask Grunt to head-butt her into oblivion.

The sound of her aggravated heels clicking against the floor drowned out the soft, electronic beat of Shepard's EKG machine. Not that she'd hear it beating normally anyways.

To her ears the machine only made the sound of Shepard flatlining not once, not twice, but three times in a span of minutes. Along with the eerie flatline was the echo of her own voice giving orders while doing everything possible to keep the N7 alive.

In a corny vid the incident would have been paired with memories of their friendship being cut into it. Miranda didn't have any of those memories, however.

She didn't remember their moments of friendship or the battles they fought; nothing of Shepard's teasing or warm smile or their final talk on Earth. Everything jumping to the forefront of her mind revolved around either medical knowledge or the next step in keeping her alive.

It wasn't until after Shepard was re-stabilized and the room cleared of all other occupants that she finally sat down, alone and mute to process everything.

The memories swarmed her then, leaving her in a disheveled emotional state; no tears, but enough pain for her to wish she could feel something other than the familiar feeling of cold loneliness and failure.

As she sat there hunched over, her face laid into her hands, she let herself remember how wonderful of a friend Shepard had been. How she gave her the chance at a better life and proved to her that she was worthy of kindness, of friendship…that she was good enough to be alive even if she wasn't perfect.

Eventually the silent room was broken by the hiss of the doors opening.

_"Miranda?"_ Kasumi's worried voice followed.

_"I'm sorry,"_ was all she could think of to say to the thief. Sorry for failing as a friend. Sorry for promising so much but failing to deliver when they needed her most. Sorry for letting this happen in the first place… Sorry Kasumi had to witness her best friend flatlining.

Much to her surprise, Kasumi pulled up a seat next to her and wrapped a reassuring arm around her hunched over body. _"Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. Without you, Shep wouldn't even be alive right now."_ Her hand gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. _"Shep will be fine, Miranda. As long as she still has a heartbeat she'll keep fighting. And if she still has a heartbeat then we can't give up on her."_

Reassuring words that had gotten her through the days since.

Only a few days had passed since the incident, a total of fifteen days since the end of the war. Overall the changes in the state of the Sol System were minimal, though that was to be expected. Short range comms were slowly getting better day by day; debris cleanup was an ongoing project and search parties were still being sent out daily to find survivors scattered across the Citadel and Earth.

So far they hadn't heard anything from Jacob or the Normandy, but the arrival of Grunt, Zaeed and Samara over the last several days kept their hope far stronger than the immediate hours and days following the end of the Reaper War.

She could see in the eyes of those who fought on Earth the burden of the horrors they witnessed, especially in Jack and Zaeed, but each day the darkness eroded just a little more as they continued to support one another.

The six of them also…persuaded the C-Sec officers standing guard outside of Shepard's room to rejoin Bailey, and by persuaded she meant Grunt gave them no choice in the matter. The officers didn't argue, though they'd have been fools to try.

Arguing with a Krogan was not a healthy life choice by any means.

Their dismissal wasn't out of lack of trust; Miranda believed them to be perfectly capable and trustworthy, but the other five were ready and willing to take guard duty shifts when they weren't helping the recovery effort.

They wanted to be there for Shepard in some way when she needed them most, even if it was incredibly unlikely for a fool to try to kill their friend.

This guard duty also gave them a reason to stick together as often as they could. It gave them a place to regroup with one another, provide support and keep close for any news regarding Shepard's condition or the Normandy itself.

Support between them came in many forms. Zaeed had a deck of cards and his stories to distract them from the recent horrors they faced. The old veteran was quite the storyteller; had she not read his file back during the Suicide Mission, Miranda would assume he lived in his own fantasy galaxy.

Zaeed's stories, however, were always based in experience, and those nostalgic memories were far easier to appreciate and laugh at now than they had been before the war.

Samara remained the silent pillar of support for the team. Often times she spent her time meditating just outside of the room on the floor next to the door; out of the way of foot traffic but still in the perfect position to defend, attack or offer wise words when needed.

Her presence brought with it an air of serenity, strength and wisdom in what could sometimes be a storm of epic proportions.

Grunt was…well, he was a Krogan. Soft words of encouragement weren't the norm for the males of the species, but that was not to say Grunt wasn't supportive in his own special way. Much like Jack and Zaeed he wasn't one to rely on words when support was needed.

He offered light slaps—by Krogan standards—to the shoulder when someone seemed down, did his best to pick up on the human game of Skyllian Five even though he thought it was stupid, and fell into the familiar banter to keep tension at bay.

Kasumi would never credit herself enough in Miranda's opinion, but her positivity, hope and teasing was one of the greatest support systems for all of them. Even though she was hurting more than all of them, the thief never failed to provide glimmers of light in the darkness for them to hold onto.

When hope failed them, Kasumi reignited it with soothing words. When the fears of the future gripped them, she kept them at bay by pointing out every bit of good news she was able to hear when she was out. When they needed to laugh, Kasumi would fire off a quip or tease to ease their tension.

Even Jack was proving her growth by splitting her time between her students and the team to give her support. Sometimes it was banter between comrades, other times she'd offer small jabs to their arms and some motivating words to keep their spirits up.

With her specifically, Jack usually kept to their entertaining jabs. Miranda enjoyed that the most, prior to the incident at least. The familiarity there, the lack of actual venomous words, the few laughs and smiles they managed to share through it revitalized her when she truly needed it.

Deep down she knew Jack needed that same familiarity too, and was enjoying it just as much as she was. They all needed some form of solid ground to hold onto here to keep from falling into the abyss of darkness left behind by the Reapers.

For that reason, when she noticed Jack falling into her worried thoughts around their current situation she would either start the banter or offer an ear to hear her out. The latter choice was usually met by initial silence, but then she'd open up just enough to have a real conversation where they could both speak openly about their fears and provide real hope when they needed it.

They were growing closer as comrades, closer than they had ever been in the past…but Miranda was okay with that.

_No_, she corrected, _not just okay. I'm…happy we're growing closer._ Even if it was only baby steps or even temporary until Shepard finally woke up, she was happy with how far they had come since the days they despised one another.

They were relying on each other just as much as they were watching each other's backs. _And possibly other regions if Jack's consistent mentions of my "bubbly butt" are anything to go by._

Unbeknownst to Miranda, her lips unconsciously twitched up for a second at the thought.

As for Shepard's current condition, Miranda wanted to say she was doing fine, that she was back on the road of recovery…but her previous confidence had been ejected out the nearest airlock and sent hurtling into the closest sun.

She couldn't shake the feeling she could be missing something else, that there was another tiny detail waiting to explode like a Cain trip mine to tear Shepard from this life when they least expected it.

What if she missed another detail that turned out to be crucial? What if this time they lost Shepard for good? How broken would they each be to have the redhead torn from them after being given the hope of her survival?

Miranda released a shaky breath and forced herself to stop pacing, if only to stop the incessant sound of her heels clicking against the floor. In the past the sound used to help her think, now it added to her growing frustration.

_I can't think about losing Shepard. I have to stay focused._ But how could she stay focused when doubt clutched her? How could anyone even think to trust her when it was her fault they nearly lost Shepard in the first place?

Miranda exhaled a deep sigh then strolled tiredly over to the nearby chairs, tossing the data-pad into one and collapsing into the other. She shut her eyes and ran a gloved hand through her raven hair, stopping at the back of her head and sighing again as she rested her head against the wall behind her.

_I'm exhausted._ The complaint sounded so petty to her, but it was the truth. Her feet and legs were aching from all the long hours she spent on them, her eyelids felt as if they had dreadnoughts weighing them down.

In the back of her mind she realized her current state likely made her far more inefficient than she should be, but she wasn't of the mind to listen to any good advice.

Her thoughts were dominated by trying to find that little bit of information that nearly cost them the hero of the galaxy. Once she found that she would be able to rightly blame herself as she moved on.

But right now she didn't have evidence, only the feeling that she was responsible even though everyone else didn't believe it. She had to prove them wrong. They needed to see her failure for what it was and then they'd realize they were wrong for trusting her in the first place. Then…then she'd have to run away and start over again…

The thought cut through Miranda's thoughts like a bolt of lightning. _I'm…I'm being a ridiculous coward._

Was this really why she was so focused on finding a mistake? Was she really just trying to find a reason to run away from the people who trusted and cared about her all because she was afraid of being less than perfect? For being human?

Hadn't she left this feeling behind when she killed her father?

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut tighter and frowned. No, apparently that part of her still lingered somewhere in the deepest alcoves of her heart…and at the first sight of failing someone she cared about, she wanted to run away. Instead of tackling the issue head-on and learning from what went wrong, she was trying to run away from it all.

_…I'm not running away this time. Shepard believed in me, she believed that there was something good waiting beyond the war for all of us._ Miranda opened her eyes and looked across the room to Shepard's unconscious body. _I have to give her the chance to find that._

She let her hand fall and hunched forward to rest her forearms on her thighs. "I suppose I should have known you'd try to die on my watch again. You certainly tried your hardest during the Lazarus Project."

Miranda breathed out a weak laugh at the crummy joke then shook her head, her features becoming more somber as she stared at the cold floor beneath her. "I'm sorry about what happened, Shepard. I'll do better, I promise."

"Shit, I didn't know you were holding a pity party. I would have brought a cake and party hats had I known."

"Sorry, the invitations must have gotten lost in the mail," Miranda fired off unconsciously without looking up from the floor.

"Heh, I'm impressed you still have your bite even when you're feeling sorry for yourself."

Miranda let out a sigh and finally raised her eyes from the floor to meet Jack's with a tired expression on her face. She had heard the door open as she was speaking, she just chose to ignore it out of the hope whoever it was would leave her be.

Jack obviously had no such intention.

The tattooed biotic stood a few strides away from her, her right hand on her hip as she watched Miranda with a pensive expression on her face. Her initial statement wasn't as barbed as it sounded, though to say Miranda was in the mood for their usually entertaining banter would be a colossal lie.

"Just checking in?" she asked, hoping to move this along quickly so she could get back to…work? _Or feeling sorry for myself, as Jack eloquently put it._

"At first, yeah, but it looks like I've got to kick your bubbly butt instead."

Miranda cocked an eyebrow up at the statement. "Excuse me?"

"I said I'm about to kick your ass. I'm tired of coming around and having to see you with that pathetic, sad, someone kicked your puppy look on your face."

A fire attempted to ignite itself in her heart to argue she was fine, but the fire died before it even began. _Fine_. Miranda snorted internally in disbelief. _Just another lie to shield myself from my own reality._

Fine.

She was fine.

She was always fine.

The word filled her with disgust. She only ever used it to bury her feelings and emotions so she could become the obedient, isolated, emotionless perfect specimen her father wanted.

She wasn't fine. She was tired, frustrated, disappointed, angry, full of fear and guilt.

What she wasn't was _fine_. Had she been fine she wouldn't even be here right now, staring bewildered at the narrowed eyes of a certain frustrated tattooed biotic. Had she been fine Jack wouldn't have called her out for looking so pathetic.

Fine… No, she wasn't fine. She hadn't been fine for a long time. She was breaking inside. The only thing keeping her from shattering was a small fragment of hope and the feigned confidence she built up through the years.

"Shepard's alive. She's still fighting. Get over your bullshit. Why does anything else fucking matter?" Jack asked pointedly.

Why did it matter? Why did anything besides Shepard's current state of living matter to her? Why was she trying so damn hard to prove she screwed up?

"Because…I wanted it to go perfectly. She's been through enough already," Miranda argued, though it came out weak.

Jack shook her head, her frown deepening as a fire ignited in her eyes. "Fuck perfection and fuck your father for seeding that bullshit into your brain. Shit happens, Cheerleader. You saved Shepard, _that's_ what matters.

"Yeah, we were all scared for Shepard and we don't want to lose anyone else. But the facts are she's still alive, she's still fighting. There's still hope for her, for the others, for this galaxy. Falling into this broody bullshit isn't going to change anything. The shit already happened. Nothing you do will change that now. We have to keep moving forward, it's the only way."

Miranda lowered her eyes to the floor and made no response. She knew Jack was right about everything. Falling into this depression hadn't changed anything or helped in any way. Shepard's brush with death wasn't something she could change now… No, she did change it by keeping the N7 from dying at that moment.

So why was she still trying to live up to the impossible standards her father set for her so long ago? Didn't it matter more that Shepard still lived? Didn't it matter more that there was still hope for the future?

"…I'm sorry," Miranda apologized.

Jack's footsteps approached her until she loomed over the former Cerberus operative. Miranda hesitated to look up, worried she'd find a pissed off tattooed woman about to cave her head in for being so weak and pitiful.

But there was no avoiding it. She couldn't keep staring at her boots or the tattoos revealed on the outer part of her thighs by her revealing outfit for all eternity. Eventually she'd have to face the music—the least she could do was get it over with.

Instead of finding biotics irradiating off of Jack in preparation of a killing blow, she found her with both hands on her hips and a fiery glare full of motivation and hope ready to be given to her.

"Listen up Cheerleader." Jack reached a hand towards her and jabbed the side of her head with her index finger. "You're the only one in this place with the brains up in that perfect skull of yours that knows what the fuck you're doing when it comes to rebuilding Shepard."

Her hand returned to her hip. "Now take a breath and stop worrying. Shepard is too stubborn to die and you'll figure out what you're missing as soon as you take off that cat suit and let the blood flow back to your brain instead of showing off your tits."

Miranda let her eyes fall back down to the floor as she breathed out a laugh and felt her lips twitch up into a weak smile. _She certainly has a way with words._

Truly, it was no surprise the Grissom Academy students cared dearly for her. Unlike all the uptight military instructors or guards at Grissom Academy, Jack was unique for far more reasons than biotic talent.

Her past, her present, her scars, her tattoos, they were all parts of the whole that made up the woman in front of her. She wasn't born into the military. She never even dreamed of becoming a part of the Alliance, yet it was her status as an outsider that made her ever the more uniquely qualified to teach the teenagers.

The Alliance was all about rank, protocol, rules and regulations—Jack wasn't. The teens needed someone they could relate to and who could understand their wants, needs and fears on a personal level.

Jack was still very much a young woman, being around ten years her junior from a purely numerical standpoint; and though she was leagues ahead of the teenagers in maturity due to her past and present, she still understood their mentality and how to appeal to them far better than Miranda would have in her place.

_Those kids are in good hands._ She could previously count the total people capable of making her believe and feel reassured in herself with words alone on one finger, and that person was currently unconscious. That number had grown by an addition of one.

_And I thought meeting the last Prothean would be the strangest event of my life._

"…I think I need to take the day off to rest and recharge," she admitted.

"Go rest then, or spend time with your sister. We're all still going to be here when you get back."

She gave a small nod then glanced up and around Jack to Shepard. Her heart monitor no longer sounded like a flatline to her ears. Instead she could hear the steady beat; a beat she knew was within the correct ranges by memory of the sound alone.

"Let me just check Shepard's vitals one last time then I'll go."

She didn't want to take any chances. _I did promise to do better._

"Fine," Jack conceded.

Miranda moved to stand up but found a tattooed hand held out for her to grab. Her internal knee-jerk response was to become incensed at the offer.

So now she was too weak to stand on her own?

She swallowed down a scoff and doused the anger caused by letting her ego jump to a false conclusion.

The hand wasn't meant to convey a thought of weakness. There wasn't a sneer lying in wait with a backhanded remark to make her feel even worse than she already did about everything.

Jack's hand, much like Kasumi's initial hug, was a sign of solidarity, of support. All she had to do was let her pride go and accept the help of a…friend.

Miranda took hold of the hand and shifted her weight to stand. Unfortunately for her, Jack took the grab of her hand as the signal to lift her out of the seat with more force than necessary.

She felt her eyes widen as she stumbled forward. Unconsciously her free hand lashed out and grabbed onto the nearest solid surface to keep her from colliding right into Jack.

It took her a second to realize the surface she was gripping tightly was Jack's jacket covered shoulder. Another extra second was necessary to process the tattooed hand braced supportively on her stomach. Neither flinched away from the sudden contact—contact Miranda could feel through her spandex armor as if it was against her own skin.

The sudden movement resulted in her heart accelerating, because it certainly wasn't caused by the hand resting against her abdomen or the realization of how close they were to one another right now.

Sure they were within leaning distance of nudging noses, and from here she could see the depths of Jack's brown eyes—a light chocolate, to be exact—but that was not the reason for her heart beating a little faster and harder.

The mere idea of that was preposterous.

Their bodies remained rigid in shock for a few brief seconds before both let their hands glide off the others body, the sensation of which left tingling nerves across Miranda's stomach, a shiver down her spine and an odd warm feeling she couldn't rightly diagnose the source of or describe.

"Thank you," Miranda thanked to break the growing tension as she released Jack's hand and sauntered around her to check over Shepard one last time.

The distance had everything to do with her final check of the day. It had absolutely nothing to do with her need for oxygen or the swirling confusion left behind by the sensations she was unused to.

"…Yeah," came Jack's quiet response.

Her check-up went quickly, and the entire time she could feel Jack's eyes watching her. One glance confirmed her suspicions, leading to them both hastily looking away until finally she was done and on her way out.

"You'll let me know if I'm needed?" she asked as she made her exit.

"Yes, Cheerleader. We'll keep you in the loop," Jack said, the eye roll in the words obvious even without seeing it. Miranda shot her a harmless glare, earning her another eye roll. She lifted her chin in the direction of the exit. "Go on already. Go before I tell Tiny to carry your broody, melodramatic perfection all the way back to wherever you're staying."

It was Miranda's turn to roll her eyes, a hint of a smirk pulling onto her lips. "Fine. I'll go. Try not to threaten anyone while I'm gone."

"No promises."

Miranda took her leave of the hospital and began the trek back towards the room she was staying in. With all the work going on and the rerouted paths around debris, the walk would take her some time, but that was a tactical decision she had made when she picked the place.

Prior to the incident it was used to run calculations or decompress after a long day of work. Today she would be using it to recalibrate her focus and reorganize not only her personal priorities, but the cluster of thoughts bouncing through her mind.

Over the duration of the walk her thoughts trailed through her fears of failure, the poison of her father's goal of perfection lingering in her heart, Jack…

_Jack…_

Most of her feelings about her were hard to grasp, each slicked with enough oil to trip a Harbinger-class Reaper. Despite that, she was grateful for her words. After the incident with Shepard and then her own self-realization of why she was trying to prove her failure, she needed a biotic shove back in the right direction, or a hand reached out for her to grab onto.

Jack could have left her to wallow in self-pity or literally tried to physically harm her, but she once again proved her growth by choosing a pep talk instead of scorning her or sneering down at her as if she were a petulant child.

"_Fuck perfection and fuck your father for seeding that bullshit into your brain. Shit happens, Cheerleader. You saved Shepard, __**that's**__ what matters."_

Jack could have been furious, could have targeted her weaknesses when her walls were down and hit several well-placed kill shots with ease.

Yet…she didn't.

She chose to stand against everything her father fed her and reiterate to her the lesson Shepard spent so long trying to get her to realize: it was okay to be human. Nobody expected her to be perfect; everyone just wanted her to be herself—flaws, quirks and everything else included.

_Nobody's perfect_, Miranda reminded herself.

"_We have to keep moving forward, it's the only way."_

She nodded to herself, her confidence reforming bit by bit as she moved through the small crowds of people and C-Sec officers working. _Jack's right. We have to keep moving forward. It's the only way we'll finally be able to ensure everything we fought for is never lost. It's the only way I'll ever be able to find out what a normal life may be like._

First step on that journey was resting and recharging after countless days of needlessly long hours and little sleep. Once she was refreshed she would start again, and this time she'd do better. Even if her best wasn't perfect, that would be okay. _She_ would be okay.

Miranda returned to her room and found it absent of her sister. _Must still be out helping the recovery effort._ She would have to commend her for that later. Oriana might not have grown up in the same way as her older sister, but that didn't make her any less courageous or persistent.

To Miranda, it made her even more courageous without having the same training or life experiences.

She wove her way through the room towards the shower—the very first step of her refresh. She only stopped when she passed a mirror and saw her reflection. It wasn't the exhausted eyes or her messy hair that caused her to pause, but the sight of her spandex armor.

The outfit over the years had served as both an armor in combat and a mask outside of it to hide her insecurities under. It allowed her to craft the Ice Queen persona into what it became and hide behind a mask of professionalism and ice cold confidence that was off-putting to almost anyone she encountered.

From the outside people saw what she wanted them to see. They saw the physical attributes of her body. They saw the unwavering confidence and cold calculation. They saw the ideal of perfection her father imparted on her.

What they never saw was everything Miranda saw when she looked in the mirror. Where others saw the epitome of perfection, she saw every imperfection that laid beneath the superficial surface layer.

Everything about her down to her bloody genetic coding was geared to be perfect by her father…yet all she saw in the mirror was every failure, every flaw, every tiny imperfection that went unnoticed by others.

Shepard was one of the first people to ever see all the way through her mask and armor and still treat her as human being instead of a failed test tube experiment…and now she knew for certain Jack could see through her façade, too.

Never once had Jack ever treated her as the perfect human. She, in fact, went out of her way to point out her flaws at every chance she could in the past. But now…now was different. Today she all but told her she was okay as an imperfect human.

"_Fuck perfection and fuck your father for seeding that bullshit into your brain. Shit happens, Cheerleader. You saved Shepard, __**that's**__ what matters."_

Maybe being imperfect made her more human. Maybe it meant she was more normal than she ever realized…and maybe being normal wasn't so bad.

_Maybe…_

Miranda left the mirror and entered her room with a new purpose. If she was going to really try to find her normal, if she really meant to follow this path, today was as good as any to start making the moves towards it.

After grabbing some new clothes not made of spandex, she took her shower, dried off and finally laid down to rest her mind and body.

As she melted into her bed and let her breathing even out, her thoughts drifted to the moment she and Jack nearly collided. The further she fell into the slumber, the easier it became to feel the sensations all over again.

She could feel the warmth of her hand resting on her abdomen, the support it initially gave and then the reluctance to remove itself. She could see her chocolate eyes full of surprise, and then something else, something more timid, vulnerable even.

Again she felt the untraceable warmth, the trail of tingling nerves left in the wake of Jack's fingers gliding off her stomach.

Not long after she fell asleep, but not without a smile on her face.

Maybe being normal wasn't so bad.

_Maybe…_


	7. Chapter 7: The Beginning of More

Chapter 7

The Beginnings of Something…More

"I can't thank you enough, Jack. If you hadn't sent us that information—"

"Ven, is it possible for you stop thanking me or am I going to have to listen to you do it for another two minutes? Because at this rate I'm going to start thinking you want to bed me," Jack drawled sarcastically, rolling her eyes as her lips tugged into an amused smile at the babbling Quarian on her comm.

"Ah, no! That's not what I—"

"What? Am I not attractive enough to switch the Qwib Qwib's drive core on?" Jack interrupted, grinning like a Krogan challenged by an entire bar to a fight.

She had almost forgotten how easy Ven was flustered by her kind of humor, and how hilarious it was to catch him in a trap like this.

"Wha- No, that's not—" Ven'Rotha released a heavily flustered breath. "Your mouth needs a decontamination unit."

"Yeah, you've told me that before," Jack said, chuckling lightly in enjoyment of the familiar banter. "Seriously though, stop thanking me so much. Jugs is my comrade, too. Just 'cause I came to the Citadel didn't mean I gave up on him."

"Sorry for thanking you so much. It's just…I tried everything I could think of to get Jugs working again. Without your information…" Ven trailed off.

_He'd be dead_. The unspoken solemn truth of what could've easily been the fate of their Geth comrade hung silently in their sudden lull of conversation. Neither of them needed to say it out loud. Neither of them _wanted_ to say it out loud, almost as if saying it would somehow make it happen.

Shit like that could remain unspoken forever, especially since it didn't end up becoming reality. What sense was there in even sparing a thought to the other possibility when the one they ended up with was the best one imaginable?

None was Jack's firm answer.

Up until recently the Geth didn't seem to have a chance in hell to be fixed. Quite frankly, she personally knew jack shit about engineering or whatever kind of crap made them work. The only knowledge she ever needed was how many rounds it took to pop their flashlight heads when they fought the synthetic species during the Suicide Mission.

Even though she was ignorant to the techy shit, she always believed they'd fix it.

If they found a way to defeat the Reapers, they'd find a way to fix the Geth. Only time and desperation were needed, and they had that in spades at the moment.

She didn't need Ven to explain his fears for them to be understood. What he felt was far more familiar to her than he probably realized.

For Ven, Jugs was his Legion or EDI—a comrade and friend he never expected to have, but one he still cared about. And while Jack considered Jugs a comrade as well, her greatest fears revolved around EDI…when she wasn't trying to ignore her feelings about the fate of the Geth and EDI.

_Trying_ was the key word there, because it was downright fucking impossible to ignore how an _entire fucking species_ was just poof! Dead.

She tried to keep those feelings submerged down in the deepest fathoms of her subconscious where all the other shit she didn't want to think about rested. Shit like how Shepard would react to the news when she learned that the weapon she spent so long trying to get built ended up killing an entire race of allies and one of their friends.

Yeah, 'cause dark shit of that caliber was totally _not_ going to crush Shepard at all. She only had the entire fucking galaxy on her shoulders for the length of the war, and her stupid soft and compassionate heart never stopped pushing her own fucking feelings away to help others or stopped counting every casualty as a personal failure.

_She's too goddamned selfless_, Jack thought, a pensive frown on her lips. Shepard always went out of her way for others. Always. Didn't matter how small or mundane something seemed from the outside.

If she heard about it and wanted to help, she'd help. Didn't matter if it drained her emotionally by the end of it. If it somehow helped the person, she'd do it without second thought to how she felt.

_No one_ could match Shepard's character. Jack had seen every color and shade of people possible in this galaxy. Good people existed, certainly, but people like Anastasia Shepard were once in a generation. People who put others before their own needs, even when they were suffering inside without complaining to anyone, were rarer than any gem or resource in the galaxy.

Hopefully the war would change that rarity. As sickening as Shepard's fuzzy, mushy crap could be, even Jack knew the galaxy would be far better off with more bright stars like her in it.

Honestly, she wanted to call her selflessness a fault. She wanted to say it was stupid of Shepard to look out for others more than herself…but it was that same selflessness, that same compassion that won them the war and gave Jack the ability to have any of these thoughts in the first place.

Hard to call it stupid when her own attitude certainly as shit wouldn't have united a galaxy and saved their asses.

Thinking of the Geth and EDI as casualties was hard enough without thinking of the day they'd have to tell Shepard the status of the galaxy.

There was too much darkness there, too many feelings she didn't know how to handle, because how the fuck were you supposed to handle the annihilation of an entire race? Even she wasn't cold enough to shrug that off as nothing. And calling it a noble sacrifice was an empty consolation prize for a race that just gained individuality.

So she did what came natural: she buried it. Buried it so far down into the deepest caverns of her heart and mind and locked it all away in a safe that would give Kasumi a tough time breaking open.

It didn't need to be thought of when the team and her students needed her focused. When the time came for them to be fixed she'd give it thought. But until then she'd keep it as background noise no one could hear.

Luck was the only reason she was able to be amused by this conversation. Luck was the only reason EDI, Jugs and the entire Geth population wouldn't be listed as causalities of the Reaper War.

"What matters is that he's up and going," Jack said, hoping to steer him off a conversation of what might have been.

Their friends survived the war and the Crucible, _that's_ what mattered. Not the dark bullshit emotions she buried, not the fears that stole more than a few hours of their sleep. Jugs and EDI were alive, and soon they could count the rest of the Geth in that tally of great fucking news.

Receiving the short transmission from EDI days ago detailing their survival was enough to make her pump her fist and yell "_Fuck yes!_" despite being in the midst of working with her students. She didn't fucking care how unprofessional it was at that moment.

EDI and everyone on the Normandy were _alive_.

_Fuck yes_, she thought, feeling her lips split into a grin in the present. Jack didn't care to ask for details beyond their survival. She didn't care how EDI managed to get a message through the shit comms or how the engineers figured out how to fix what the Crucible did or how far away they were still.

They were _alive_.

The burden that news lifted was like winning the war all over again.

Seconds after the transmission ended she began receiving messages and calls from all the other members of the Normandy team currently on the Citadel; every single one wanting to spread the news they received on the off chance EDI's message didn't reach the others.

She took every call and responded to every message, reveling in the shared joy, excitement and overall positive emotions as if she was never going to experience happiness like it ever again.

Several colorful, positive and creative uses of curses later and it was time to get back to work. Before she did get back to work, though, she sent the information EDI gave on how to reactivate the Geth to Ven and the rest of Justicar Ria's team so they could fix Jugs up.

It was the least she could do for her comrades and not exactly applause worthy in her eyes. Then again, receiving genuine gratitude was still an awkward experience for her. _Not like I deserve it. I was just the messenger._

"How are all of you doing anyway?" she asked, smoothly changing the subject away from his babbling. She leaned forward on her bar stool to rest her bare forearms onto the bar counter in Shepard's apartment to relax further.

"We're doing well, all things considered. I had a slight fever due to a small infection, but nothing serious. Jav, Ravyn and Justicar Ria have all been working hard. Out of the entire team, Shay was the only one who needed extra time to recover. He has a few new scars and walks with a limp, but he hasn't slowed down one bit. Uh, figuratively speaking, of course."

Jack snorted. "Tough bastard, I'll give him that."

Not many humans could be blasted by a Harvester and shake it off like it was nothing. Even fewer would be diving back into work within a month of the incident happening.

"Overall, reactivating Jugs and the few other Geth stationed here has been a real morale booster."

"You could say that again," Jack agreed, nodding absentmindedly.

Although they hadn't heard from the Normandy since their transmission or been able to contact them, the one transmission was enough to keep their spirits high. Jacob's return yesterday was just icing on an already pretty damn sweet cake.

Granted Jack never considered herself to be close with the man, still didn't, but he was a comrade and fought like hell to protect the people he cared for.

That was enough for her to be happy for his survival.

"The daily flux of returning ships is helpful," Ven'Rotha continued. "I don't know how it is on the Citadel or for the other species, but each time a Quarian or Turian vessel returns, our specific medical supplies and rations grow just enough to keep me hopeful."

"Same up here. Repairs are an ongoing project, but whether it's the Keepers fixing shit without us realizing it or all of our hard work combined, we're seeing the crowded refugee centers beginning to thin and supplies being more evenly spread out. Things are getting better, that's for sure."

Still nowhere close to normal, but close enough that everyday no longer felt like an uphill climb to an impossible goal. More like a steady incline with a few craters to traverse down and back up out of. Shit was getting fixed, people were always volunteering to help the growing relief effort and most were willing to share whatever comforts they could.

Each day it seemed like there was less news of casualties and more good news of varying kinds. Sometimes it was something simple like a pathway getting cleared that opened up quicker and easier access through the station. Sometimes it was just an increase of comm stability.

Other times it was a returning ship willing to share supplies, or news of a big repair to the Citadel that returned power or running water or life support to a section of the station.

These changes were far easier to see when she was working with her students. People, structures, all of them were slowly looking less worn down than they were in the first week of post-war.

People were regaining routines, being given purpose with relief effort jobs and doing what they could to find their normalcy, even if that normalcy was just taking the time to sit down at the closest bar you could find with a drink in reaching distance.

Scars were still there, debris still needed cleaning up, accidents still happened, but Jack didn't feel as tense about their overall chances of surviving post-war.

They'd get through this, she was certain of it.

"Keelah," Ven sighed in relief, "I was worried I was being too optimistic about our situation because of the improvements we've had. I never thought I'd say this, but talking to you has really brightened my day."

Jack barked out a laugh at the friendly jab. "Fuck you, Ven, and your ridiculous named ship. Don't make me come back down there to kick your ass all across London."

"Ah, there she is. For a moment I was beginning to think you were an impostor."

Jack chuckled and shook her head. _Brightened my day too, Ven_, she thought.

"Anyway, I have to get back to it. I'll be sure to pass on the good news to the others. And thank you again, Jack."

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome. Make sure you all stay safe down there."

"We will. Be safe, Jack."

"I will," she said then ended the call.

With the call over, Jack exhaled a content sigh and grabbed her nearby glass of water. She hadn't been expecting a call from any of her war comrades for the passing of information. At the most she expected a single message or something, but the call was appreciated and did lift her spirits from the valley they had fallen into.

After taking a small sip of water she lowered the glass and stared down into it with passive features. Unconsciously she began to move her wrist in a circular motion to swirl the liquid around within the glass as her ears attuned back to the silence of the empty apartment.

_I wonder what the others are doing_, she thought while watching the small ripples form in the glass. Obviously they were working in some form. Work never really ended for any of them. But tons of work was far better than being indoctrinated thralls, dead or still fighting a never-ending nightmare factory of a war.

Zaeed and Grunt were currently on guard shift if she remembered correctly, and the Cheerleader would be monitoring or doing some medical shit to help Shepard recover. Those three were the easiest to figure out. Their routines rarely changed, not that Jack's changed any more than theirs.

Jacob…she hadn't figured out his schedule yet. Maybe he was spending time with his pregnant lover or maybe he was finding some way to be useful. _Have to figure out when he'll fit into the rotation schedule._

An assignment for later.

Samara and her shared the late night guard shift today, so hopefully the Justicar was getting some R&R like Jack was. If she wasn't then it wasn't a big deal. Night shifts weren't all that bad anymore. Weeks away from the war meant very few individuals were on the verge of dying, which meant less foot traffic and noise throughout the hospital.

Perfect conditions for Samara to meditate and relax if she worked the entire day.

Kasumi was harder to place. The thief wasn't spending her waking and sleeping hours attached to Shepard's bedside anymore, though that particular feat took _a lot_ of coaxing from Miranda and Jack. It had been Samara's wise words that finally reached through her stubbornness after tons of mental bludgeoning by the two human biotics.

It's not like they didn't want her around. They were just trying to get her to take better care of herself and get out of the claustrophobic hospital room. Spending every hour of her day there wasn't going to do her any wonders mentally or emotionally.

As of late she had been helping the relief effort in whatever ways she could during the day and hovering close to Shepard by night. Considering they were currently about five hours away from the beginning of the night cycle on the Citadel, Kasumi would likely be migrating over to the hospital—if she hadn't already.

Jack didn't judge and couldn't blame her for coming back every night to sit with Shepard's unconscious form. Their bond meant the world to the thief. Everyone who worked on the Normandy during the Suicide Mission knew how inseparable they were.

When the Alpha Relay incident went down, Kasumi was the one who had the guts and heart to go up to Shepard's quarters to be there for her. When they were on shore leave during the war, Kasumi was the one who stuck to Shepard like glue and did everything she could to make her smile and laugh.

And when Kasumi needed help regaining her former lover's greybox, Shepard jumped to help her even though it meant wearing a dress. When Kasumi was struggling to let go of Keiji, Shepard was there to show her people still very much alive cared for her.

Without Shepard to set her straight, Kasumi stopped taking proper care of herself. Thankfully they had gotten her out of the hospital, but she hadn't been seen at the apartment when she was meant to be for a few weeks now.

It could only mean she was sneaking into Shepard's room in the early hours of the morning, and unfortunately Miranda and Jack had yet to catch her long enough to give her an earful about what she was doing.

_She's the best thief's in the galaxy for a reason. Just wish she'd stop being stupid about taking care of herself._

Everyone needed food, water and sleep. Didn't matter if you were a Krogan, Asari, Quarian, Elcor, Hanar or Human. Depriving yourself of any necessities did nothing good for the internal workings of the body.

_Have to figure out some way to catch her when she can't escape._

She'd have to discuss that with the Cheerleader. Miranda would likely have some sneaky sort of plan to work with that'd catch Kasumi off guard. _She worked with Cerberus for however long. She must've picked up on some of their stealthy ambush tactics._

As for Jack herself, she spent most of today with her students as they used their biotics to clear more debris for new pathways, open up access to more homes, stores and clinics and scavenged for materials. Overall her little brats did well today. They worked hard and continued to support one another just like she trained them to.

But…

Jack scowled down at her drink when she realized her free hand was unconsciously rubbing the area around her amp. The skin around it tingled without burning, but that pain was replaced by a consistent throbbing reverberating across her skull. _Fucking assholes nearly killed me and Rodriguez._

Some other relief team either didn't have the fucking brain capacity to understand how piles of debris worked or they literally were trying to kill Rodriguez. Based on their profuse apologies and the fear in their eyes when she confronted them she'd bet the former, but damn did she wish it was the latter just so she could smear the walls with the morons.

Needless to say, her afternoon did not end on a high note prior to speaking to Ven'Rotha.

Rodriguez was still pretty shaken up by the incident when they got back to their room, the horror of nearly being crushed by tons rubble leaving the teenager a visible mess after being ordered to "_Stop fucking standing there like a frightened rabbit and get the hell out of here Rodriguez!_" by Jack.

Jack frowned and lowered her eyes. She felt like shit for snapping at Rodriguez when she didn't do anything wrong. Those ignorant fucking assholes were the ones to blame for trying to remove a piece of debris that was holding _everything_ else up. And of fucking course they would do that when one of her students was standing nearby being productive and safe.

_Assholes._

Jack had heard the sudden shifting before she saw it, having been preoccupied by helping place the most recent large debris out of the way so it could be dealt with. When her eyes locked onto the scene and the unaware Rodriguez—who was focused on safely removing the correct next piece—she sprinted into action.

"_Get out of there, Rodriguez!"_ she yelled in some kind of vain hope words alone would do something.

No amount of shouting would save her student in time. And if she didn't reach her in time she'd—

The sound of someone's knuckles lightly knocking on a wall snapped Jack out of her thoughts as if a gun had just gone off right next to her. Her body tensed and her free hand—the one still massaging the area around her amp—paused as her head and eyes darted to the source of the much needed interruption.

Mildly concerned blue eyes met hers and the tension in her body immediately went slack. _Just Miranda_, she thought all the while ignoring how easy she relaxed in the presence of a woman that used to set her on edge just by breathing the same recycled ship air as her.

The raven-haired woman stood a few strides away just on the edge of the invisible border of the room Jack sat in. How she got that close without the tattooed biotic even realizing it had less to do with being lost in thought and everything to do with her new outfit.

Throughout the entire time they had known each other, Jack had never once seen the Cheerleader wear anything except her ridiculous cat suit.

Seriously, why the fuck was that even allowed in Cerberus? It wasn't even real fucking armor. Was the Illusive Man secretly getting off on Miranda reporting in because her tits and ass were there for all to see? Or was he hoping to use sexuality as a weapon?

Regardless, the outfit was fucking stupid. Yes she had grown used to it over time, but it'd have been impossible not to when she was stuck dealing with her on an almost daily basis.

So far in post-war it had given her an unending supply of ammunition about its revealing nature to keep the Cheerleader on her toes and fuel their friendly banter to keep her in higher spirits…and yeah, she may have been using those jabs to cover up her admiration for Miranda's attractive body sometimes.

Once again, it was hard not to admire her body at least a few times when she was stuck dealing with her on an almost daily basis. _You'd have to be fucking blind not to notice._

The way the cat suit accentuated her tits and ass, Miranda might as well have been stark naked, bathed in the pink neon lights of an Omega whorehouse display window as she enticed customers to come take a look inside.

_There's an image._ Jack meant for her thought to be full of sarcasm and eye rolls at how stupid the cat suit was. Instead she found herself in a momentary fight to keep the flustered warmth her imagination caused at bay.

Anyway, the cat suit was gone and hadn't reappeared since her pep talk. She refused to give that strange occurrence any thought. The Cheerleader made her own decision for her own personal reason. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything she said, no matter how hard Kasumi tried to convince others that Miranda had done it _for her_.

Replacing the outfit was far more casual clothing she hadn't expected Miranda to even own. Besides cat suits she expected maybe regal dresses and other overpriced outfits made of the finest materials known to the galaxy.

Honestly could anyone blame her for thinking that? Little Miss Perfect back during the Suicide Mission reeked of snobby, rich, daddy issues, unable to sleep on or wear anything that isn't made of silk and the broken dreams of unpaid laborers.

But the Cheerleader proved her previous assumptions wrong by wearing something normal—a plain solid black V-neck, blue jeans and a pair of regular shoes. The shoes didn't even have a minor heel, and that made keeping track of Miranda much harder after becoming so attuned to the sound of her heels clicking along.

When Miranda arrived at the hospital in her new outfit the day after being all mopey, Jack was admittedly stunned by the stark difference of clothes. Luckily Kasumi had been there to offer real compliments of her new look while Jack struggled to find words to say.

Miranda looked…she looked good. Better than before. Her clothes were less revealing yet still accented her curvaceous form well, but now the focus wasn't purposely drawn directly to her chest or her bubbly butt. Now her eyes, her smile—the far more beautiful parts in Jack's opinion—were the focal points of beauty instead of the shallow parts everyone had been drooling over for years.

Saying that, however, was _so_ not fucking happening. Especially in front of Kasumi.

_Especially_ in front of Kasumi.

"_Doesn't she look good, Jack?"_ Kasumi had asked.

The nature of the question was innocent. No bait or fishing for a comment to tease her for something she might say. Yet, even though the question was innocent, internally she panicked at the sudden attention of the conversation being placed on her.

How the fuck was she supposed to respond to that without embarrassing herself? She bit her tongue to fight through her flustered thoughts and keep her mouth from making another "fantastic tits" incident happen right in front of Kasumi. Fuck, that'd be mortifying.

"_She looks normal."_

Her flat response earned her a warm smile from Miranda that made her shift uncomfortably. _"Thank you."_

Jack still didn't understand why she was thanked for that, but she didn't want to question it. In fact she went out of her way to ignore any and all feelings beyond their familiar banter and recent deeper discussions. But fuck was it hard to ignore it all. These damn feelings…where the hell had they come from? And why did they seem to grow stronger the closer they became?

"Hey, are you okay?" Miranda asked.

The tattooed biotic frowned as she set her glass down and stopped massaging the skin around her amp.

Was she okay? For the most part, yeah, but the incident with Rodriguez and her concerns about her amp she hadn't voiced were bothering her. And that wasn't including the moments her thoughts would return back to Miranda and the damn feelings she didn't want to think about.

Prior to the end of the war she would have just brushed the Cheerleader off and buried it all. These were her issues to deal with and she'd fucking deal with them her way. But…she wasn't the same pre-war closed off bitch she once was—neither of them were.

Shepard and the war changed them, for the better Jack believed. Still, those changes were a struggle to adjust to, just like these weird feelings she was harboring.

So instead of brushing it off, she exhaled a deep breath and slouched forward to lean more of her weight against the bar counter. "Honestly? I'm doing pretty good overall. But…" After a brief second of hesitation she breathed out a humorless laugh and locked her gaze with the bar countertop. "Almost died with Rodriguez today."

The gravity of those words hung uncomfortably in the room without either woman speaking or moving for a brief moment or two.

It wasn't even the fact she almost died that bothered her. It was seeing Rodriguez's fear filled eyes every time she shut her eyes and knowing how close her student was to dying right in front of her that bothered her so much.

_If I was even a second later…_

The thought had filled her with rage before…now it just exhausted her emotionally and made her heart ache unpleasantly, like a Krogan was trying to punch their fist through her ribcage to rip it out.

In her heart she knew even in peace life could be loss. Accidents happened, assholes still existed. But to have one of her precious students nearly become a smear of blood on the floor after surviving through the Reaper War because of some fucking idiots…

Jack shut her eyes tightly and exhaled a shaky breath full of emotions she was holding back. Sensing movement from Miranda, her crestfallen eyes opened but remained on the countertop like it was some sort of impressive piece of art. It wasn't. Damn thing was boring as hell and offered no distractions away from her gloominess.

Miranda's presence next to her made her glance up to see the raven-haired woman removing her jacket from the second stool to place it onto the counter so she could sit next to her.

For a few moments they sat there in silence that wasn't entirely uncomfortable but was still filled with the familiar struggle of one of them trying to open up or ask the other to do so.

At the end of the day, despite how well they knew one another and how well they were working together to take care of the team, neither of them were Shepard. They weren't the woman who could open others up or open up to friends without hesitation.

They were just Jack and Miranda, damaged people who shielded their hearts from the galaxy that gave them the pain to begin with.

"Are Rodriguez and your other students okay?" Miranda finally asked.

Jack dipped her head in a faint nod. "Yeah. The others weren't close enough to be hurt. Rodriguez made it out unscathed but was still shaken up afterwards."

"Do you want to talk about what happened? I'll listen."

"…I know."

Over the last few weeks they had confided their fears to one another without facing judgement or ridicule as they would have in the past. Back then Jack would've _relished_ the opportunity to put down the Ice Queen for a mere glimpse of fear, and she was all too certain Miranda would've been of the same mind.

Jack felt none of those past feelings anymore.

Replacing those once vindictive feelings were that of empathy, of true understanding of Miranda's fears and the need to offer whatever small support she could, because she knew where she was coming from. She knew it all too well. And for her support and empathy she received nothing less from the Cheerleader.

Rather than shooting off barbed curses or vindictive sneers, they found a common ground and did their best to be there for one another in this freshly wounded galaxy.

Even if it was still a bit weird, Jack was happy with their new dynamic. They synched up pretty damn well on and off the battlefield, and as they grew as individuals, so too did their bond of camaraderie and friendship.

Would that change when Shepard woke up? Jack didn't know. With how jumbled her mind was right now, she wasn't sure if their friendship was a temporary thing to get them through until Shepard woke up or if it was really real.

Deep down the answer was obvious. Unfortunately it laid buried with everything else where it continued to grow beyond her line of sight.

Figuring that out wasn't a priority at the moment. There was no Priority: Figure Your Feelings Out mission on the table. Currently the whole incident with Rodriguez and her inability to get past it weighed down her mind and heart.

In her short time alive in this galaxy she had experienced more near death moments than she chose to count. For a long time she even dared death to try and take her; partially to try to feel alive, partially because she wanted to turn off the lights on her pain—permanently. But that was before she found people worth living for.

What she needed to talk about wasn't the near death experience itself, but what almost caused it in the first place. And not those assholes either. They were but a symptom of a larger problem she became acutely aware of today.

"…This isn't easy for me, but I need to ask a favor from you," she started slowly, still staring down at the counter.

"If it is something I can do, all you have to do is ask," Miranda replied without hesitation.

Jack shut her eyes and did her best to swallow every ounce of pride that was screaming at her to shut the fuck up and never ask anyone for help. Miranda's response made it just a little easier to get the words out.

"…I think the plug-in for my amp is fucked up. Could you look at it and replace it if it needs to be?"

"Of course. The scan may take a minute," Miranda informed as she moved to stand up. Jack nodded quietly in thanks. "Not that I don't appreciate you voluntarily asking for a check-up, but you didn't necessarily need me for this."

Miranda would've been right under normal circumstances. In a perfect galaxy any doctor could've done it for her. But…"You're wrong, I did need you," she replied softly.

"Oh?"

"Besides Kahlee, who has enough shit going on right now without me throwing my problems on her shoulders, the only person I trust to let near my amp and not fuck me over is you."

_And even if Chakwas was around and Sanders didn't have her hands full, I'd have still come to you first._ Those truthful words refused to come up. She was already fighting not to backpedal on asking for help and admitting she trusted Miranda because of how fucking weak it made her feel.

Ironically, it was that same feeling of weakness that led her to ask for help; because in that moment of saving Rodriguez her amp faltered.

Had she been an average biotic, they'd have died. Amps were a biotic's source of power, with specific kinds improving different talents and abilities. Could be providing enough control for a more refined biotic charge, could be enough power to warp a person into oblivion.

For Jack her amp was an increase of both power and control over her immense strength. Without it she could still tear some shit up, but to lose amp functionality in the middle of holding up giant pieces of debris had almost been a death sentence.

Miranda's hand rested gently on her shoulder, a silent show of solidarity that made Jack glance back at her with some of her walls still down. Her icy blue eyes were warm, gentle and comforting to gaze into. "I appreciate your trust," she said.

"Good," Jack replied softly, nodding once before turning her attention back to the countertop.

Amps were also a sensitive area for all biotics. It was the reason some L2s didn't go back under the knife to get a better amp to put an end to the pains they experienced. One wrong move, one doctor having a bad day and they'd be vegetables.

Of course replacing plug-ins came with far less risks. No surgery required. Most biotics were able to switch them out on their own with little to no complications whatsoever, depending on the location of their amp that is. Normally Jack would have done it herself, but this was different. Even if she hadn't voiced it, she knew her plug-in was beyond her abilities of replacing.

A light _beep_ sounded off behind her and was swiftly followed by, "Bloody hell, Jack. What kind of strain did you put on yourself?"

_Shit, if she's reacting like that…_ Yep, her plug-in was definitely the definition of FUBAR.

"What's the deal?" she asked, nervous of what the answer was. Were they looking at surgery level of damage where her entire amp was fried, or was it just the plug-in? Fuck did she hope it was the latter. Because if it wasn't…well, she'd be asking Miranda if she knew how to do the surgery, because she sure as shit didn't trust anyone else to do it.

"The deal? The deal is you're plug-in looks like Shepard's," Miranda explained, her voice full of angered disbelief and worry.

Jack shuddered visibly at the comparison. About two days ago, Miranda exited Shepard's room with what used to be her plug-in—unrecognizable melted remains that looked like it'd disintegrate if touched. If her plug-in was in _that_ shitty of condition…

_I got fucking lucky today._

"Was this caused by what happened today?"

"No," Jack shook her head, "today was just the final nail in my plug-ins coffin."

No way was today enough to do that level of damage. _Which means…_

"If the damage is like Shepard's, it has to be that final stretch of the war that screwed it up," she voiced her realization.

When the Cheerleader showed them the unrecognizable melted together piece of tech, Samara, Miranda and Jack herself began trying to theorize how it could have happened. Plug-ins were durable pieces of tech, crafted to withstand the exertion of power done by biotics in the middle of combat scenarios.

Their best guess was—based on her injuries—Shepard consciously or unconsciously created a biotic cocoon around herself to protect her from either the Reaper beam or whatever happened with the Crucible. That action, plus all the other shit she went through on Earth, must have been far too much for her plug-in to handle—too much biotic output at levels of strength the average biotic couldn't muster up.

Using that same theory on herself, it was clear now why her amp had been giving her so much shit since the end of the war. The headaches, the strange tingling, her body had been trying to tell her she messed up her plug-in. She was just too damn stubborn to listen, as usual.

Miranda exhaled a semi-frustrated sigh. "Do you have a replacement on hand?"

Jack grabbed her jacket and flipped it around so she could get into her left pocket. "Figured it'd be screwed," she muttered. The way it gave out and the sharp pain that nearly split her skull afterwards was the only real sign she needed to pick up a replacement from Kahlee. "Here," she said, handing over the replacement and tossing her jacket back onto the countertop.

"I have to grab some disinfectant. I'll be right back."

Miranda left for one of the cleared out bathrooms they stocked with supplies and returned with disinfectant and a hand towel. "If you don't wish to talk about it, I understand, but honestly how did this happen?" she asked as she returned. "With your practically unlimited reserves of power, I thought it'd be impossible for you to ever run into a problem like this."

"You and me both, Cheerleader."

But not expecting something to happen didn't mean it was impossible. Impossibilities being proven wrong over and over again had been a recurring theme of the Suicide Mission, Reaper War and now post-war. Winning the war, finding a limitation to her strength, Miranda and her becoming friendly with one another; each and every single one seemed to be an impossible pipe dream…and yet, here they were.

Miranda scooped up her ponytail and moved it so it was resting over her chest then began applying the disinfectant to the towel. The tattooed biotic took a deep breath to settle her jittery nerves, all of which were caused by having her so close and hands on around such a sensitive area.

"Me and my kids were stationed at a museum in London, back ranks originally…"

Jack went on to explain everything leading up to the final stretch; the constant battles, the state of the museum, the team she fought with, how the lines of war changed—everything. The build-up to the event was necessary for her to understand the entire circumstance, plus it gave her a decent distraction away from the tingling feeling Miranda's gentle touch coerced when her warm fingers would brush against her bare skin.

Hiding the shiver was no easy task, but she kept it restrained enough to be unnoticeable. Hopefully Miranda didn't notice the goosebumps forming on her skin.

_Maybe she'll think it's because of the temperature of the apartment._ Jack couldn't help but roll her eyes at herself. _Oh yeah, the nice, comfortable temperature that requires no sweaters or jackets is responsible for your goosebumps. Tch, keep dreaming moron. I'd have better luck convincing her a ghost was responsible._

It'd certainly have the same level of believability. Of course a better spin out of it would be just to blame it on the sensitivity of the skin around her amp, but that'd be bullshit and she knew it.

Miranda's smooth fingers and tender touch were the sole culprits for her body's reaction…and even though her mind was freaking out over the huge question of _why_, the sensory nerves across her skin couldn't deny how nice her hands felt as they all but caressed her.

"Shay would be a goner if no one cleared a path on the ground or got on the turret, so Jav and I did the only thing we could: he jumped down into the thick of it and I jumped on the gun," she explained to distract herself and hopefully Miranda away from any visible signs of her inner thoughts and feelings.

"Created a biotic bubble large enough to encompass me and most of the turret then opened up hell on the Harvester. Damn thing wouldn't fucking die though. Kept blasting my bubble over and over again, but even though I was hurting badly, the thought of my kids and their safety willed me to keep the bubble active."

The little squirts didn't know it, but they were the reason she found the will to push beyond her pain and keep firing on the Harvester. Without them, she doubted she'd have been able to hold on as long as she did.

"Ria came over to support me. We held our own there until the N7 Talons bailed our asses out by blowing the Harvester sky high. Got a nosebleed and fell unconscious not long after." Which was still embarrassing, even if both were well-earned. "When I woke up the war was already over and my body felt like shit."

But she was alive and so were her students. Seeing the Reapers topple and their forces turn to ash couldn't beat the feeling of knowing all of her little brats survived the nightmare war.

"You didn't tell us it got so bad," Miranda said after a lengthy silence, voice softened by the reality of war Jack had faced.

Jack offered a small shrug. "Didn't see the sense in it. The war was hell. Talking about how bad everything got would have just made you and Kasumi worry, and we were all alive. That's what mattered to me."

No sense worrying them over the past. She was fine, they were fine, her kids were fine and the war was over. There hadn't been any complications until now so it hadn't needed to be brought up.

Plus the nightmares of the war grew distant with each day she was around them; Jack didn't want to risk reopening any of her wounds or the wounds of her friends by talking about the hell they survived.

"Mm. What happened today?"

"We were clearing this giant pile of debris; I mean some of the shit was fucking huge. And because of how it was all piled together we couldn't just grab whatever piece we wanted otherwise it'd come crashing down. We had to attack it like a puzzle."

"I didn't realize you had the patience to play puzzles."

"Bite me, Cheerleader," Jack fired back.

"Buy me dinner first and I may consider it."

Jack all but snapped around in her chair to stare at Miranda with wide eyes of incredulity and her mouth hung agape. Don't get her wrong, that response was pretty damn good and she would give the Cheerleader credit for making her speechless. But seriously, where the fuck had that come from?

Miranda leveled her with an amused smirk and a cocked eyebrow. "What?" she asked as if nothing had transpired.

"Did you just—"

"Insinuate I might bite you if you first take me to dinner to render you speechless? Yes, I did," Miranda interrupted, her voice full of smug victory.

"Fuck you." Was it a great comeback? Fuck no. But she wouldn't just sit by and give the Cheerleader the win by remaining speechless.

The glint of triumph in Miranda's eyes was the only warning she had to her incoming harsh defeat. "You'll have to do more than buy me dinner for that to happen."

Okay, where the fuck was this all coming from? The Cheerleader _never_ dipped into suggestive comebacks. _Ever_. And she certainly as hell never paired them with what seemed to be a flirtatious connotation.

Seriously, was Miranda actually _trying_ to come off as flirtatious, or was it her imagination. Because if it was just her imagination, it needed to fucking stop. Right now.

The entire situation was made far more awkward for the tattooed biotic because Miranda literally had the tips of her fingers still touching the sensitive area of her amp. Her previous goosebumps had goosebumps, the faintest brushes of skin between them giving her a strange combination of chills and warmth she struggled to fight against.

Unsure of what to say or how to take her words—and trying to hide how flustered this whole situation was making her—Jack scowled and turned away from Miranda to conceal the stupid fucking blush she couldn't control. "Ugh, you win this one. Just stop insinuating you want to bed me when you're messing around with my plug-in. It's fucking weird."

Miranda's laugh made it hard to keep a scowl firm on her lips.

Damn it, what the hell was wrong with her? Why was the Cheerleader able to elicit these responses out of her? _Argh, these feelings are all so weird. I don't fucking get them._

Unaware of her inner debate, Miranda continued in an amused voice. "Fine, fine. Consider that payback for all the comments about my 'bubbly butt' as you like to call it."

"First off, your butt is bubbly. Don't pretend you aren't aware of that when you and everyone who fucking saw you in that cat suit know what it looks like."

_And that really isn't helping my case at all, stupid fucking mouth_, Jack scolded herself. _I might as well have said, "And yeah, I checked your bubbly butt out."_

Groaning internally, she tried to fight off her embarrassment for even admitting it in her own mind that she had checked Miranda out. It didn't mean anything, of course. It just…kind of happened?

Jack did her best not to bury her face into her hands at the Milky Way sized embarrassment the lame excuse gave her.

Shit, okay, _yes_ she admired Miranda's body both when she was in the cat suit and in her new causal clothes. But it wasn't like all the other idiots who drooled over her every time she walked by. They never saw what was beyond her chest or butt. She…did.

The internal confession made Jack squeeze her eyes shut tightly. _Fuck_. She did see beyond the form of her body. She saw the beauty of her icy eyes, of her warm smile, of her smile inducing laugh. She saw her growth as a person, her continued fight to escape the final tendrils of her father's influence, and fuck did she want to see her succeed.

But why? Why did she feel these strong fucking feelings for her? What changed?

"And second off," Jack continued, trying to steer her mind away from her whirlwind of questions, "it's not my fault you paraded around in skintight spandex to distract every man and woman you encountered so they could drool and ogle over your bubbly butt every time you walked away."

"I suppose I didn't realize it distracted you so much. I thought only my 'fantastic tits' could do that."

The tattooed biotic slammed her forehead onto the countertop and let out a frustrated groan. "Argh, I _fucking knew_ you were waiting to throw that back at me!"

Miranda fell into hysterical laughter at her reaction, which only filled her with tugging feelings of fury and those other feelings she didn't think about. The only silver lining for her to grab onto was that no one, specifically Kasumi, were here to hear about it.

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Thoroughly embarrassed thanks to her previous comment biting her in the ass and by her other thoughts of Miranda, Jack decided enough was enough. "Fuck it, I'm leaving," she announced, her cheeks burning far hotter than her amp ever had.

"No, no, stop," Miranda grabbed her arm to keep her from moving while trying to stifle her laughter.

The grip wasn't tight enough to actually stop her, but the physical contact still stopped her. She paused and glared at Miranda. Her infuriating smile remained and kept her from leaving immediately.

"Just stay put so I can finish replacing your plug-in."

"You say anything to anyone about that and they won't find your body."

Her threat didn't shake her smile at all; in fact it might have even become wider because of it. "I'm sure. Now turn around," Miranda said, motioning her to turn back around with a twirl of her finger.

Jack turned back around with a pissed off huff and rested her forearms back on the counter.

Damn her for having such a nice smile.

"Lewd as your compliment was, I still appreciate it."

_Probably would've appreciated my thoughts at the end of the war more._ Part of her wanted to say the words, but she wasn't sure how to even approach the subject or how to say them without feeling weak or embarrassed—two feelings she had just about enough of today.

"Good," was all she could think of to say that wouldn't embarrass her.

"So, someone obviously removed the wrong piece of debris. Were you and Rodriguez under it?"

Grateful for the change of subject, the tattooed biotic gave a nod. "Rodriguez was. I was nearby. It didn't all come crashing down at once. If it had, she'd be dead." A note she didn't like admitting out loud, but one she found easier to say to Miranda than anyone else. "Everything started shifting after they removed their piece, which was a bad sign to start with. When I saw that Rodriguez was too focused on her work to notice, I sprinted over."

Not that Rodriguez noticing would have changed anything. She'd still have died because there wouldn't have been enough time for her to run, and she didn't have the level of control and power necessary to catch all of the large pieces of debris that would've crushed her. Even Shepard and Miranda would have had a hard time with it, but their years of practice and combat experience would've kept them safe.

"Shit shifted one last time and then a ton of it came flying down at Rodriguez," she said, drawing her left index finger around the rim of her glass. "I got there just in time to create a biotic field to catch it all, but then I felt my amp falter and this…splitting pain erupted across my skull."

The echoes of it still remained like a muscle cramp she couldn't stretch out.

"If you were anyone else…" Miranda trailed off, seemingly unable to finish her sentence.

Jack tightened her right hand into a fist and felt a frown crease her lips. "We'd be dead, yeah," she admitted quietly. "Rodriguez froze up, and I snapped at her like a fucking idiot. She didn't even do anything wrong."

"You were in pain—"

"That doesn't fucking excuse it!" she snapped. Jack immediately grimaced at her sudden outburst and brought her hands up to bury her face into them in pure frustration. "Fuck, I'm doing it again!" she cursed.

She was snapping at people she cared about when none of them were responsible for her attitude. The root of the issue was her. Her stubbornness was the reason they almost died, which then led her to snapping at Rodriguez and then the guilt that followed. And now because she was furious at herself she was snapping at Miranda, who was actually trying to help her.

"I'm a fucking idiot," she cursed again.

"Jack." Miranda's voice was steady, comforting even. The gentle hand she rested on her shoulder even more so.

Her body twitched from the internal struggle between refusing to move and wanting to meet those eyes again, but eventually she gave into her wants. Better than throwing a stupid pity party.

Sighing deeply, she lowered her hands and looked first at the pale, well-manicured hand resting on her tattooed shoulder, hesitant to go any higher in fear of being set off like a firework by a look of pity or something close to it.

Against those fears she met the icy blue eyes and didn't find pity or a sneer or a mocking or placating smile. She found comfort, understanding, empathy and compassion, but most of all she found warmth indescribable.

How eyes of the purest icy blue were capable of such warmth was beyond her understanding, but she didn't care to figure it out. She was all too happy to be embraced by the warmth that kept the cold loneliness she used to know at the other end of the galaxy.

"You risked your life to save Rodriguez today. You've put yourself under levels of strain the average biotic would never be able to withstand to protect your students because you care more about their lives than your own. They're intelligent enough to know what you've done for them. Don't you think that matters more to them than a single snapped off order?" Miranda asked.

Jack's eyes fell away at her valid point. "…Yeah." It did matter more to them that she went so far to protect them. The only one still kicking her in the ass over anything was her. "I just…I feel like shit for snapping at her. And at you," she added on, turning just enough to look back at her.

"It's okay." A small, amused smile tugged onto Miranda's lips. "Really, it's fine. You've said and tried to do far worse in the past."

Her smile and the hints of humor in her voice were enough to coax a soft chuckle and smile out of Jack. "Suppose I have."

Not long after, Miranda finished with her plug-in and sat down on the stool next to her to relax. For the most part they sat in amicable silence, comfortable to get lost in their own thoughts as they took the time to relax away from work. Sometimes they'd break the silence to speak to one another, turning in their stools to give their full attention to whatever mundane or important matter they brought up.

During a respite of conversation, Jack finally conquered a different struggle altogether to say something she knew she needed to say.

"Near the end of the war," she spoke up, voice low and calm despite her heart pounding against her chest like a Thanix Cannon, "I thought about the last conversation we had here at the party."

Miranda shifted next to her to give her undivided attention. The tattooed biotic could sense her confusion without seeing it, refusing to actually meet her eyes because of how nervous she already was. Her hands were almost shaking and it felt like a bird of some kind was trying to flap its wings in her stomach. _Keep going. You need to say this._

"You complimented my growth as a person. It…it caught me off guard. Back then, I never thought you of all people would see how hard I was trying to be better than I was…and I didn't think you'd ever give a genuine compliment for it. I…" Jack swallowed down her nerves. "I really appreciated it."

There, she said it, and in doing so made those feelings real. No more hiding, no more pretending…at least not about this. Now it was time for the final step. Inhaling a breath in a futile attempt to ease the thundering of her heart, she looked up to meet Miranda's eyes. "But I never told you what I really thought about you. Beyond your fantastic tits."

The last part didn't need to be mentioned again, but if she was jumping off this particular cliff, she might as well bring everything with her. No sense pretending it was a fake compliment.

Miranda's lips upturned slightly at the comment. "Jack, you don't have to—"

"Just…Shut up, Miranda," she interrupted without any malice. Instead her voice wavered enough to reveal how nervous she really was. "This is…this is hard enough for me as it is. I'm not good with this emotional shit, all right? Just…let me say what I need to say."

Miranda watched her for a brief moment, likely analyzing everything she could to see if this moment of vulnerability was real. It was. Fuck, it was, and it scared the living hell out of Jack.

"Okay."

They fell into silence again as Jack tried to regain the courage necessary to speak these thoughts and feelings out in the open. During the silence her eyes found a random space on the wall in front of them and remained there even when she began to speak again.

"When you laughed and smiled about me complimenting your tits…did you know that was the first time I had ever heard you laugh and smile in my presence, not including your bitchy smiles or the one you had after you introduced yourself to your sister?"

_The first real smile and emotions I ever saw from you._

"Really? Not even when Shepard was leading us?"

"No," Jack shook her head. "Not that I'm surprised. You kept your walls up around me, just like I did around you."

Another shake of her head, this one to stop her musings and get back on point. This wasn't about their relationship during the Suicide Mission. This was about the here and now.

"At the end of the war, when I thought about that conversation…I realized I lied, though not about your tits." An unnecessary admittance that slipped out in her nervousness. "I lied about still really hating you. I didn't. Not then and not now."

"Jack…"

"Don't…Just don't say anything. It'll make this more fucking awkward for me."

She needed to get to the fucking point and be done. The longer this went on, the more awkward and vulnerable she felt, and the less control she had over her mouth—a combination capable of mortifying her in the worst way possible.

"What I wanted to say…What I should have said instead was that despite the shit your father put you through, despite being so blinded by Cerberus's and the Illusive Man's bullshit, you finally grew past all of it. You stopped trying to be the personification of perfection and did your best to be normal after all the pain and shit you went through."

_Just like me._

"So do me another favor and don't stop moving forward," she continued. "Find your normal. And for fucks sake, you have a nice smile and laugh, show them more often."

Now it was time for her to walk away and put as much distance between herself and this situation as humanly possible, because _fuck_ was it awkward on her side of this. Jack grabbed her jacket and stood up, fully intending to leave and head to the hospital for her shift.

Before she could get out of reach, Miranda's hand found hers, the grip nowhere near strong enough to hold her back but somehow able to halt her movements completely. Jack squeezed her eyes shut as her legs stopped and refused to budge. She tried her hardest not to turn back, tried to ignore how the nerve endings on her hand were tingling and urging her to squeeze the hand back and never let go.

Slowly, she turned around and found earnest blue eyes staring back at her. "I'll keep moving forward so long as you do the same."

Jack dipped her head in a small nod. "Deal."

She felt Miranda's grip loosen but not let go, the pads of her fingers brushing up against hers as she too struggled to let go. "Hey…thanks for replacing my plug-in," she thanked, both in honest gratitude and to find some way to stall here.

Miranda smiled. "You're welcome. Thank you for the compliments. And…" Her eyes shifted away nervously before returning, a hint of a blush on her pale cheeks beginning to appear. "For what it's worth, I think your tattoos are beautiful."

Her cheeks warmed and her eyes flitted away. "…Thanks."

She _really_ needed to go now. She needed to figure out what was going on in her mind and heart before she made some giant mistake that would only end up hurting her. As her hand began to slip from Miranda's grasps, she gave her hand a small squeeze then continued on her way out.

Only time would tell what was growing between them.


	8. Chapter 8: Anastasia's Awakening

Chapter 8

Anastasia's Awakening

Miranda sat silently in her bed. Her pale skin was illuminated by the dull orange light of the holographic clock sitting on the nearby nightstand. Beyond the small halo of orange, a sea of darkness where silhouettes of different pieces of furniture sat alone, isolated by their specific functionalities.

Tired blue eyes traced across them; a dresser here, a closet over there, a ceiling fan circling above. Sighing, Miranda rested her head back against the pillow she had braced herself with and tried for the umpteenth time to shut her eyes and rest. Her chest rose and fell with each steady breath meant to ease her into sleep, but no sleep came.

Again she was left sitting like a fool trying to pretend to be asleep to avoid trouble.

_Why can't I stop thinking?_

Every part of her body was ready for sleep, each waiting to meet slumbers embrace so they could be refreshed for the next day. Not her mind, though. Her mind refused to get off the treadmill it jumped on no matter how much she tossed, turned and did everything in her power to shut it off.

About an hour ago she decided to sit up, far too frustrated at her mind to lie down and watch the fan revolve or the numbers change on her clock.

A single sheet covered her lower half, her left leg lying flat underneath it with her right leg bent closer to her body to create a sort of pyramid or tent on her bed. Her right forearm rested on top of her knee while her left arm lay across her chemise covered stomach.

Honestly this was ridiculous. She needed to sleep. There would be plenty of time to think tomorrow when she was awake and well-rested. And yet…

"_So do me another favor and don't stop moving forward. Find your normal. And for fucks sake, you have a nice smile and laugh, show them more often."_

Miranda exhaled a deep breath and opened her eyes to stare at her right hand, turning it so she could look at the palm that had unconsciously reached out to stop Jack from leaving.

One week had passed since Jack opened up more than she previously thought possible. But although an entire week had passed, the words they had said…the feelings they shared still remained at the forefront of her mind.

Even now she could feel the warmth of Jack's hand in hers. She could feel the gentle squeeze meant to convey unspoken words neither understood and the warm tingles left behind as her fingers glided off her skin. If she shut her eyes she could hear her soft and nervous voice. She could see those same familiar traces of timid vulnerability she had seen when they nearly collided into one another.

_Why can't I stop thinking about her tonight?_

Overall she wasn't even angry or annoyed about the subject of these sleep depriving thoughts. All she felt was puzzled. Puzzled that she couldn't stop thinking about her latest meaningful conversation with Jack. Puzzled by how vivid the sensations of their few moments of physical contact were. Puzzled by the feelings it all gave her.

Although she would have never admitted it in the past, being among the small list of people Jack trusted beyond the general comrade status was a privilege. For the tattooed woman to actually ask for help was a sign of her growth as a person, for her to ask _Miranda_ of all people and admit out loud she trusted her was a monumental step in their relationship.

All of that she could handle and process with ease. Their bond was obviously growing because of how closely they were working together. Nothing scientific there to dissect.

Where everything became far harder to comprehend was the undefined feelings that lingered below the surface layer of their new friendship. Even their banter was being affected by it if her suggestive comebacks were anything to go by.

"_Bite me, Cheerleader."_

"_Buy me dinner first and I may consider it."_

_Where did that even come from?_ It wouldn't have bothered her had it been something she prepared in advance to win a round of their banter by shocking Jack into silence.

_But…it wasn't, was it?_

She didn't prepare that comeback. It came out unconsciously with hints of flirtation she hadn't feigned. _And I enjoyed every second of it_, she thought, lips curving up into an unconscious smile.

Every moment of Jack's flustered reactions made her current confusion worth it.

Why did she enjoy seeing Jack try to hide her blush? Why did seeing goosebumps dot her tattooed skin give her a feeling of gratification? Why did Jack telling her to smile and laugh more often because she thought they were nice make her feel so…warm?

The analytical portion of Miranda's mind already calculated the answer to her questions. It was the emotional part that was struggling to accept the obvious.

Groaning softly, Miranda rested her head back again and brought her hands to her face. _I just want to sleep_.

It was almost as if her brain refused to let her until she admitted the truth. _How much longer do you think you can ignore it?_

Based on their recent interactions, she doubted she could ignore it much longer. Ever since their last talk they had become even closer.

It wasn't obvious from the outside looking in. Their banter was still friendly. They still acted normally around one another in front of the others, but from the inside… From the inside it was becoming more apparent in the smallest ways.

Hidden glances lingered. Conversations they shared in private knitted together stronger feelings they didn't speak of. Non-intimate physical contact increased when alone.

They didn't hold hands or hug things out. _Awkward_. But when one of them needed to pass by the other, a hand might grace a shoulder or somewhere along their back to alert the person to their presence.

Guiltily, Miranda had done so a few times even when unnecessary, but she also knew Jack had done the same to her, leaving behind tickled nerves and goosebumps her outfit could no longer hide fully.

_It's only fair_, she excused both of their actions. In thinking that, however, revealed how different their relationship was.

For two people who never touched one another unless Jack decided to shoulder barge her way past Miranda, these new softer touches were extremely noticeable, and yet neither of them made open mention of the change or bothered asking for it to stop.

Why would they when they appreciated this new strangeness?

_"For what it's worth, I think your tattoos are beautiful."_

Miranda let her hands slide slowly off of her face and shut her eyes. _Subtle._ At the time it only seemed fair to confess her appreciation for her tattoos after everything Jack had said. She wouldn't take back saying it, but…

_It's __**so**__ embarrassing_, she groaned internally. If this was how Jack felt about her 'fantastic tits' comment, she could empathize with the need to smash her head onto a bar counter.

Her comment wasn't even as crude as Jack's had been—although it would be hard for anyone save a Krogan or Zaeed to even come close to matching the tattooed woman's penchant for coarse language.

Even if it wasn't crude, it was still out of place for her to compliment someone's physical appearance, especially Jack's. She never saw much sense to the niceties. Cerberus wasn't a place to make friends for her; she used it as a place to hone her talents and as a means to protect Oriana.

Then again, Miranda had grown used to the empty words of men and women alike. Words used to try to open her up just enough to get something useful out of her, whether pleasure based or otherwise. Words used to tell her how beautiful or perfect she was.

Even thinking about her past experiences made her roll her eyes.

None of them saw beyond her physical attributes. None of them could understand her or her motives in life. None of them were worth risking the possibility of endangering her life, her sister's life or their own because of who she was.

She didn't need more connections to worry about or fear betrayal from.

That was before, though. Before Shepard, before the Suicide Mission, before the Reapers and the war.

_Looking back now, I'm sure there were a few genuine people I pushed away because of my own attitude and impossible standards._

She couldn't blame all of them for her lack of social life. At the end of the day, she made the choice to keep everyone at arms distance with her Ice Queen persona; she was the one who created impossible standards for them to never reach. It made it easier to condemn herself to loneliness.

_I wouldn't change it._ Back then it had been too dangerous for anyone to be involved in her life. Between her father, the Illusive Man, other Cerberus agents and the Reapers, anyone she chose to be involved with would have never been able to experience a normal life.

Their lives would have been in danger constantly, and Miranda couldn't have handled someone dying _because_ of her. For her to lose someone she came to care about would have made her shut herself off to the galaxy even more than she was, possibly to a point where even Shepard couldn't save her.

Now was different. Now the threat of her father, of the Reapers and even Cerberus couldn't be scapegoats to avoid social interactions. She could try to be normal. She _wanted_ to find her normal and stop placing impossible standards for others to meet.

Without the looming threats of the past she could begin moving forward, one small step at a time. If one of those steps was openly admitting she admired Jack's tattoos, well, at least it was an interesting wrinkle to their relationship.

No one ever said her normal meant being good at compliments. Who knows, maybe she'd accidently let something more scandalous slip out next time in her attempt to do better. Or maybe Jack would offer another heartfelt compliment.

_I…I could live with that._

Another obvious hint at what the logical part of her mind already knew. Another hint she chose to ignore for just a bit longer.

A light chime broke the silence of the room, and with it a burst of energy surged through Miranda like an electrical current. There were two possible reasons for her omni-tool to be going off at this hour: either Kasumi had set off a motion sensor Miranda placed in Shepard's room to alert her to the thief's presence at ungodly hours such as this, or the sensor tracking movement from Shepard's bed was sending an alert.

Quickly opening her omni-tool, she felt her eyes widen and her heartbeat pick up in tempo at visual confirmation of the source.

_Shepard._

It would seem the Savior of the Galaxy was finally ready to walk among the living again.

No longer feeling the anchors of exhaustion tying her down, Miranda all but threw herself out of bed while her hand danced across her tool to check Shepard's vitals and the status of her other motion sensors. Movement meant life, life meant Shepard was waking up.

_And nobody is there at this hour._

Panic attempted to settle in and make the raven-haired woman become reactive instead of proactive, but years of training jumped into the driver seat of her tired body and biotically tossed her panicked reactiveness to the other side of the Milky Way.

She was prepared for this. This moment had always been a matter of time with the leaps of progress made in Shepard's recovery. She placed a motion sensor on Shepard's bed for this purpose; to be ready, to be there for her as she was for them all this time.

To be a better friend than she had been.

The mere thought of Shepard waking up alone in the early hours of the morning without anyone there to reassure her of the end of the war spurred her to take what others might see as an overzealous precaution. They didn't know Shepard like she did, though.

If even a small part of the N7 believed the Reapers or Cerberus were still a major threat to her life—which she would believe—Shepard wouldn't sit idly by in her bed, injuries be damned.

_She's too stubborn to listen to her body._ To call it a fault would be asinine when her high pain tolerance and stubborn will was so damn admirable. The war was won because of that grit, and if they were lucky peace would last because of Shepard's personal sacrifices.

Now wasn't the time for stubbornness, however. Despite healing Shepard's injuries without lasting permanent damage, the Commander's body wasn't ready to support her weight. Weeks had passed since the end of the war without any physical activity from Shepard.

Between the blood loss, the lack of activity and the smaller wounds they were letting heal naturally, the redhead would be lucky _not_ to gain a new intimate relationship with the floor if she got up.

She needed to take it slow—slower than she would have been willing to go during the war. It'd be a struggle, it'd be frustrating, but the physical therapy Miranda had planned would grant her the ability to regain her full strength and mobility without problems in her later years.

_This is something I can do for her. This is a way for me to return the favor for all the help she's given me. And I'll be at her side through it all._

This was her way to show she was done running away.

_Vitals are good_, she noted while moving to her closet to grab clothes. As long as Shepard's heartrate didn't suddenly elevate in sheer panic Miranda wouldn't have to remotely administer a sedative to put her back under.

Grabbing her black V-neck and jeans, she threw them onto her bed and switched from checking Shepard's vitals to the other motion sensors on the chance Kasumi ignored what she had to say.

At a glance nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, but that alone was suspicious enough for the raven-haired woman to investigate further. The other sensors should have also been picking up Shepard's movements. Operative word there was _should_.

_Nothing_, she thought when her other sensors continued to comeback as negative even when Shepard's bed was getting pinged over and over again. _Kasumi must be there tonight, against my orders._

Any annoyance she might have felt was replaced by relief. Shepard wasn't alone. Kasumi was there with her, no doubt ready to give her the warmest hug possible to wash away all the hurt, all the fears and all the stress that had plagued her.

Shepard would wake up to the person who could give her heart and mind the peace she needed. The peace she deserved.

Miranda closed her omni-tool with a sigh of relief, her heart calming its cadence as a heavy stress was lifted from her shoulders.

_I should still go to Huerta. Kasumi needs to sleep whether she wants to admit it or not, and it's clear that I won't be getting any sleep tonight._ She reached her hands above her head and moved up onto to the tips of her toes to stretch out her legs and back, letting out a soft moan as the tense muscles were relieved. _But I can lag behind a few extra minutes so they have enough time to clear the air._

Miranda claimed no expertise on the topic of love, however even she could see the undeniable love between her two friends. There were bridges for them to still cross, feelings to express to one another after keeping them hidden, but the coming days would give them the time to do so.

_As long as Shepard doesn't keep hiding her feelings._

Did she mention lately that Anastasia Shepard was more stubborn than an old Krogan and twice as hardheaded?

_If they haven't even spoken a little about it by the time I get there, I'll give her an earful._

Letting her arms fall out of their stretch and her heels return to the floor, Miranda proceeded to strip out of her chemise and throw on her regular clothes. Once she was changed, she grabbed her shoes and a pair of socks and headed out into the darkened living area to the couch to sit.

Midway through putting her second shoe on, a tired voice came from behind her. "Can't sleep?"

Miranda half turned after slipping her shoe on to peer through the darkness to the silhouette of her sister. _I didn't silence my footsteps enough_, she realized, frowning at herself for being so inconsiderate.

Excitement and exhaustion could make even the best operative sloppy.

Not wanting to keep Oriana awake any longer than necessary, she stood up and made her way over to her sister to wrap her up in a warm hug. "Go back to sleep, Ori. It's too early for you to be up."

Her sister returned the embrace. "Too early for you too," she mumbled. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go check on Shepard. I think she's waking up." She released her sister and gestured for her to return to bed with a lift of her chin. "Sleep, Ori. I'll be back later."

"Mm. Be careful, please."

"I will," Miranda promised.

After making sure her sister did indeed go back to bed, Miranda left for Huerta at a steady stroll. Had she needed to hurry she would've jogged the distance and cut the time down significantly, but there was no rush with Kasumi already there.

_I suppose her blatant ignoring of my threat worked out this time._

The morning of the day after she replaced Jack's plug-in was the day she finally caught Kasumi asleep in Shepard's room. She laid curled up on an uncomfortable chair. A blanket covered her upper body and her head was positioned at an angle that would give her cramps the rest of the day.

_Enough is enough_, she had thought. For too long Kasumi eluded them, sneaking into Shepard's room early in the morning when she needed to be back at the apartment in a bed sleeping.

Miranda understood her stresses and anxieties. She understood how they affected sleep patterns and hunger, but if the thief didn't start taking better care of herself she was going to wither away before Shepard ever woke up.

_Since she refuses to listen to reason, threats will have to suffice_, Miranda decided.

"_If you don't get your sleep like everyone else, I am going to put you under with a sedative until Shepard does wake up. Am I clear?"_

The threat had done the trick…Mostly. Kasumi hadn't snuck in until this morning, so at least that was some progress. _I may need to ask Shepard to talk to her as well._

If anyone could convince Kasumi to do anything, it was Shepard.

It took Miranda almost a full thirty minutes to reach Huerta Memorial Hospital at her leisurely stroll. Over the course of the walk she periodically checked in on Shepard's vitals just to be safe, each time finding them still in sublime ranges that encouraged her to stall a bit longer so Shepard and Kasumi had a few more minutes to talk.

_I can wait few more minutes_, she told herself. A few more precious minutes of privacy wouldn't hurt anyone. They'd be each other's curative, healing any and all wounds no medicine or doctor could fix.

Shepard was receiving her first full dose of the medicine known as Kasumi Goto. Once she was out of the hospital she would likely be under the strict dosage of every day at every hour to cure all lingering symptoms of stress. Side effects included more hugs and warmth than humanly possible to withstand without a smile.

Alas, after waiting several longer minutes in a chair outside of the room, Miranda finally moved to the door to interrupt whatever conversation went on within to run some checks and send the thief home to rest.

_Hopefully without an argument_.

The doors to Shepard's room hissed open and revealed a very much awake—though still a bit sedated—Commander lying in her bed. Her sky blue eyes met Miranda's and glinted in happiness at first for her survival, but then settled for confusion when they noticed the change of clothes.

Compared to how Shepard looked when she first arrived, she looked like an average wounded solider from a war not involving skyscraper sized enemies. Bandages still remained around the top of her head and around her chest and stomach, but otherwise there were no signs of the burns and wounds that once left her a barely held together battered mess.

The sight made Miranda smile internally, partially in pride over the good work she and her team had done, partially because she was just happy Shepard was alive and well.

"Miranda. I was just watching after your patient," Kasumi spoke up from her seat next to Shepard's bed, voice full of innocence.

_Mmhm. At an ungodly hour._ She'd let it slide for now. With Kasumi's back turned to her she couldn't judge her current state of mind or exhaustion well enough yet. Shepard's state of befuddlement didn't help her gauge the situation any better.

Had they spoken about the feelings they were harboring? Had she interrupted too soon? _I'll have to keep my eyes open._

Maybe she wasn't the best choice for playing matchmaker, but she'd do her best for these two.

"Where's the cat suit?" Shepard finally voiced the question consuming her mind.

_Is it really that shocking I own other clothes?_ Surely the entire team didn't think her wardrobe consisted of nothing except spandex outfits. _Then again…_

Thinking back to how everyone from Jack and Kasumi to Zaeed and even Jacob reacted when they saw her change of outfit, their surprised expressions, their compliments or sly jabs, Jack's particularly flat statement. _Was that really all I ever wore around them?_

Hadn't she ever wore her regular exercise gear during her time on the SR-2?

_I know I did. And I wore a dress to the casino when Shepard and I went gambling and drinking._

What had been her reaction then?

"_Ha! I __**knew **__you had at least one outfit not made of spandex. Thanks Miri, Kasumi owes me a bunch of credits now."_

Miranda frowned internally. _Ah, right. I suppose I did wear it in every encounter of ours._ She shrugged off the thought, not at all bothered by the truth. What mattered now was how she put the cat suit and all it stood for behind her to focus on moving forward.

"_So do me another favor and don't stop moving forward. Find your normal."_

"_This isn't goodbye. You have to believe we're not done yet, that there is something good waiting for all of us beyond this war."_

Normal. The good waiting for her beyond the end of the war. That's what she was aiming for now, that was the goal she was chasing. No more running away. No more excuses.

_I'll keep moving forward so long as you do the same_, she silently promised herself and Jack again.

"How long has she been up?" she asked, ignoring Shepard's question for the time being. She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear Kasumi's reason for not calling her immediately. Perhaps her answer would provide a hint at what had gone on during the near on thirty minutes she gave the pair.

"I think about twenty or thirty minutes. I thought you would have gotten here sooner so I didn't send a message," the thief answered.

_Mm, a believable lie, I'll give her that_, Miranda thought, smiling internally. _But a lie all the same. Seems they might have actually taken the time to address their feelings._

For now she wouldn't prod further. Shepard was still a patient, after all. Her health needed to come first before she let herself be distracted by the blanket of warmth the redhead's presence provided.

Miranda sauntered over to the machines next to Shepard's bed and started going over them, finding much of the same. _Everything is still in the green. Good._

"Shepard, glad to see your ability to get yourself injured and nearly killed hasn't gone away," Miranda jested, letting a warm smile pull onto her lips.

Shepard smiled at her and dipped her head in a small nod. "Oh you know me Miranda. If I'm not getting shot at, facing down unbelievably impossible odds or getting my ass shot off then I'm not having a good time."

She gave a short and light laugh at that and smiled at her truest friend. Even after everything she went through and under the remnants of a sedative, Shepard was still Shepard. Kind, warm, and resilient in every aspect.

"I'm glad you're okay my friend." Feeling that words weren't enough to express her happiness, Miranda gently rested her hand on the Commander's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze.

Before she realized it, Shepard's arm wrapped around her and pulled her down into a hug. The friendly warmth behind the gesture instantly reminded her of a single fact: Shepard was truly one of a kind.

"Just hug me you prude," Shepard teased.

And an ass.

"I am not a prude," she retorted.

Prudes would not be able to handle Jack's vulgarity or past outfit without blushing or being offended at every turn. Prudes couldn't handle rebuilding a certain Commander's body after it entered atmosphere and crashed onto a planet. Sure she hadn't been one for physical contact before—hugs or otherwise—but she was working on lowering some of those barriers.

She was _not_, however, a prude.

"I'll believe that the moment I see you show some public display of affection with someone," the Commander said as she released her, offering the raven-haired woman an amused grin.

Miranda rolled her eyes and let herself smile even though she disagreed with Shepard's assessment.

"So seriously, cat suit? Did it get ruined or something?"

"No," she answered with a shake of her head. "I decided since I'm not out fighting hordes of mercenaries, Reapers or Collectors because of you that I would wear something more…normal I suppose."

"_Fuck perfection and fuck your father for seeding that bullshit into your brain."_

Those words never ceased to further her resolve in finding her normal.

"You look good Miri," Shepard complimented, bringing a smile to Miranda's face once more.

Just like with Jack's, the N7's words weren't empty of honesty or based on some shallow need to lower her guard and get her into bed. When they appreciated her new look, it wasn't just about the change of clothes. It was an appreciation of her growth away from the cold, guarded woman to the hopefully warmer one she was becoming.

"Let's see," Shepard continued thoughtfully, sky blue eyes leaving Miranda to look back at Kasumi. "Now the only one I have left to get into casual clothes is you, Kasumi. Everyone else I've seen in something casual."

"What about Tali?" Kasumi questioned.

"Until she is allowed to keep her mask off, I consider what she currently wears casual."

_Fair point._

Half turning to look between the two, Miranda found Kasumi already in the process of standing up. Although the shadow of her hood hid much of the thief's face, she could still see her eyes gleaming with life, paired with a smile she hadn't seen since the end of the war.

Gone were the stresses and anxieties that she had kept hidden from the crew, replaced by an insurmountable amount of happiness only Shepard had the ability to give her.

_All that's left is the return of the Normandy and then everything will be perfect_, Miranda mused, happiness blooming within her like fresh flowers in the spring.

"Do you need me for anything Miranda? I'm going to get some sleep and then try to contact the Normandy again," Kasumi said.

Kasumi's decision to leave on her own accord managed to catch Miranda off guard, though she kept it hidden from sight. She had fully expected some form of resistance, maybe even a small argument over leaving Shepard when she had just woken up.

Yet she gave no sign of planned resistance, not even the slightest hint of slyly sneaking back in after she was gone, and Kasumi _loved_ sneaking around.

Miranda's eyes flicked over to Shepard briefly. _I wonder if you realize how important you are to her. To all of us._

The mention of _again_ when talking about the Normandy caught her attention. They still hadn't received word from the ship since the single transmission from EDI. Patience was, of course, key. Traveling long distances without the Mass Relays took more time than it would have if the Relays weren't destroyed by the Crucible blast.

They also had to consider the possibility of the Normandy sustaining damage in some form or another. Perhaps they were down one engine and had to take extra precautions to ensure they didn't lose the others.

Still, with each passing day the concerns for their safety grew little by little. _I hope she hears something from them._ It'd do them all wonders, but it was for Shepard's sake she hoped for it most.

"You can go if you want Kasumi. I'm not going to be able to run any big scans on her until everyone is actually awake." A sigh of relief escaped Shepard, bringing an evil smirk to Miranda's lips. "But there are some tests I can run."

Shepard's sigh cut short and was replaced by a huffed pout. To accent her displeasure, the N7 crossed her arms across her chest. The sight of the great Commander Shepard pouting like a scolded child coaxed a laugh out of Miranda and a giggle from Kasumi.

"Don't worry Shepard, it won't be anything invasive."

"That's what they always say and then I end up waking up while the facility is under attack."

Unfortunately there wasn't much she could say to disprove her point. Thanks to Wilson at the end of Project Lazarus and the indoctrinated Amanda Kenson, Shepard had experienced two startling wakeups into sudden combat—one of which was on a facility Miranda was personally in charge of.

Not so willing to snap at the piece of bait placed by the redhead, Miranda decided an eye roll and smirk would suffice.

"Bye Miranda. Bye Shep. Try not to travel that much," Kasumi parted on a tease and was out the door before Shepard could respond.

"Cheater," Shepard pouted.

"Since when did Kasumi play by the rules?" Miranda retorted.

"That's…a valid point." The redhead cast a glance down at her legs, lips pursed in puzzled thought. "Speaking of walking…"

_That didn't take her long_, Miranda mused. _Awake for barely an hour and already wants to get moving._ She could understand the need, but that wouldn't change her answer.

"Out of curiosity, how intimate would you like your relationship with the floor?" she posed the question innocently as she sat down in the chair previously used by Kasumi.

"Uh, preferably not intimate at all?"

Miranda snorted. "Then don't push your luck. The injuries you sustained during the final battle were critical, Shepard. Your leg was broken, you were shot through your shoulder, nearly incinerated by a Reaper beam if the state of your armor was anything to go by," she lifted a finger up with each new injury, "and that's not including the blood loss, the shards of glass we found in your skin or the injuries you hid from Chakwas."

Shepard lifted a hand to rub the back of her neck sheepishly but winced in pain from the still healing shoulder wound. "There wasn't a lot of time to get those injuries healed," she deflected while lowering her arm. "I figured I was in bad condition, but I didn't realize my list of injuries was that big."

Miranda leaned back in her chair, a smile playing at her lips. "You weren't dead, so I'd say it's an improvement from the Lazarus Project."

"True," the redhead chuckled.

"Once everyone is awake we'll have to run a few tests to make sure you'll be ready for physical therapy. If you are, we'll start as soon as you're ready." She let her features set into clinical seriousness. "I'll warn you now: we're not going to be rushing through this. We need to take it slow so you can recover without crippling issues later in your life."

To her surprise, Shepard nodded in agreement. "Sounds good." She lifted a hand to her still recovering shoulder. "'All this time running, shooting, dodging explosions…I can feel the toll it's taken on my body more than ever right now. Everything aches. Even my toes hurt," she added in part as a jest, but also in truth.

The small smile that graced her lips fell, and with it the life in her sky blue eyes disappeared to reveal the weathered and battered soldier underneath. Her shoulders slumped and Miranda felt her heart drop.

This was the part of Shepard no one outside of her squad had seen—the woman beneath the armor who had carried the weight of an entire galaxy on her shoulders.

_They should have listened to you sooner_. If the Council and the Alliance had put their political motivations and fears aside for the sake of the galaxy, Shepard wouldn't be here in the hospital bed, held together by strength of will and bandages with the remnants of an impossible burden still weighing down her heart.

"When I fired the Crucible…I thought I had reached the end of my path in this life. I was content knowing I had given everything I had to give all of you a brighter future without the Reapers."

"You went expecting to die?"

Miranda couldn't stop the shock from revealing itself in her voice or the somber feeling that came over her when Shepard nodded.

"Yeah. I was positive I was as good as dead." She offered a weak yet sly smirk. "Guess I owe you another one for giving me another chance at life."

_No, you don't owe me anything. It's because of you my sister is safe. You were the one who gave me the chance to be in her life and gave me the strength to stop running away._ The words failed to come out, but she did manage to force her body into action.

Leaning forward, she rested a hand on Shepard's in hopes to offer the wounded soldier support and convey even a fragment of what she wanted to say through the gesture. The redhead gave hers a soft squeeze back in appreciation.

After exhaling a soft breath, she continued, "I never expected to be given another chance, but I'm not going to waste it. If that means taking things slow with my recovery or stepping away from being the tip of the spear, I'll do it." She shook her head. "I had one regret too many at the end of it all. I plan on correcting that."

"Have you told her?"

A small nod. "Yeah, sprang it on her like one of her sappy romance novels too." Miranda chuckled. "I don't know where it'll lead, but I hope maybe she'll feel the same way I do."

Miranda scoffed. "Please, you two will be attached at the hip by the end of the week. Probably have your first kiss too."

Shepard's eyes brightened. "Think so?"

_How can they be so blind?_ Rolling her eyes in amusement, Miranda said, "I bet a hundred credits you and Kasumi share a kiss by the weeks end."

A smile tugged onto Shepard's lips before she turned her hand around to force Miranda's into a handshake. "A win-win for me. You've got yourself a bet."

Over the next few hours the pair discussed everything from the current state of repairs in the Sol System to how the crew had been getting along since the end of the war. Miranda left out most of the details revolving around her and Jack's new friendship out. While she was certain Shepard would approve of their friendliness, she'd also be relentless in her teasing.

No one in their right mind would give her that kind of powerful banter ammunition.

Miranda stayed with her until the day cycle began, easily fighting through exhaustion thanks to Shepard's innate ability to spread her infectious happiness onto others. As the day went on, though, with the arrival of each squad member reuniting with the N7, her lack of sleep continued to wrap its sluggish tendrils around her until time felt like a giant blur.

When a tattooed finger flicked her roughly in the forehead, she became aware of how close she was to passing out while in the lobby of Huerta Memorial. Chocolate eyes stared hard at her through the fog encompassing her senses with a scowl.

"Fucking go home and sleep, Cheerleader. You're like a damn Husk."

"Shepard…" she mumbled.

"Girl Scout will be fine with her other doctors." Another hard flick to the forehead. "Home. Bed. Now. Got it?" Before she could form an argument, she had to cover her mouth as a yawn escaped her. "Bed. Now," Jack ordered.

Yes, sleep would be good. She was dead on her feet and would make mistakes in her current sleep deprived state. But she wasn't going to give Jack the satisfaction of believing she was listening to her order without a fight.

"I told you," she spoke through her yawn, "if you want me in bed, you'll have to do more than buy me dinner."

Shock took over Jack's features at how her own words fueled the tired, yet still flirtatious comment. Seeing her moment, Miranda pushed the data-pad of information she was carrying into the tattooed biotic's hands and said, "Make sure you give that to the doctors." She yawned again.  
"I'm going home to rest."

She quickly turned on her heel and left the hospital behind her, a satisfied smile on her face and gratifying feeling thrumming through her body for one reason and one reason only: Jack blushed.

When her head finally hit her pillow, sleep claimed her within minutes, but not without one final happy thought crossing her mind.

_I'm glad you're back, Shepard._


	9. Chapter 9: The Mischief of a Thief

Chapter 9

The Mischief of a Thief

Commander Anastasia Shepard possessed an innate ability to inspire powerful emotions within the people she encountered. In the hearts of her allies she ignited fires of hope, of courage and a general feeling to do better.

Even in their darkest of hours, even when their hearts were weighed down by fears or doubt, Shepard was able to make people believe in themselves, in their comrades and in the future that seemed out of reach.

Sometimes heartfelt words were all she needed to ignite the lingering embers into raging infernos. Other times it was her unwavering heart that kept her allies full of hope. Her actions made them believe in a better future. Her refusal to give up even when the odds were against her inspired them to follow her lead, no matter where it took her.

Even if it had been defeat, they'd have all followed her to the end. Proudly. Without fear. Without a doubt they had given everything possible to end the nightmare war.

For her enemies, however, Anastasia Shepard inspired different feelings. They never received her compassion or witnessed the genuine, warm kindheartedness capable of melting a frozen planet like Noveria.

What Shepard's enemies felt varied from person to person. Prominent among them was fear, anger and a general desire to kill her for getting in their way.

On the battlefield, those with intelligence understood what her presence meant: doom. Doom to all who stood in her path as an enemy.

They still tried to fight against the impossible. They tried to become the heroic villain that stopped the unconquerable force. But in the end their last moments were spent in fear as the biotic redhead marched across the battlefield to destroy them.

Enemies like the Illusive Man and Henry Lawson could only ever be furious at her for thwarting their plans at every turn. They'd give righteous speeches, claim she could do so much more if she only bent her will to join them. Every word they spoke was carefully calculated; a dance crafted so they could be seen as sympathetic figures or allies.

When all else failed, these people would negotiate for their lives, but Shepard never let fear compromise her.

Nothing they said could ever stop her from seeing them as the egomaniacal terrorists quite literally indoctrinating their followers to achieve their goals.

Bastards like Kai Leng couldn't stand her presence, whether because they felt inferior somewhere deep down or because they could never stop her was hard to say. Either way, they fought to the bitter end in a futile attempt to best the N7 and prove she was weak.

Shepard wasn't weak, though. She didn't hide behind gunships or an army of pawns, and she certainly wouldn't let them taint the galaxy with their evil presence.

All those who knew of Commander Shepard were aware of these far more documented parts of her. Soldiers and civilians alike heard the stories of her accomplishments during the war; the interviews with Diana Allers gave them a face to go with the legend and the far more human side of her.

They were aware it wasn't the Council or the Alliance or any other single military responsible for the cooperation between species—it was Shepard.

Shepard gathered the soldiers, the scientists and the tech experts. Shepard ended old grudges and reasoned through means of peace to bring everyone together instead of protecting personal interests and planets in a conventional war no one could win.

What the galaxy did not know, however, was the Anastasia Shepard behind the armor and symbol of N7. The woman behind the title of first human Spectre. Sure they may have seen her in the interviews, but that wasn't _Shep_, not fully anyways.

No one outside of the Normandy was aware that she was an avid collector of model ships. They didn't know about the hours of downtime she spent constructing them with the same focus she brought onto the battlefield. The people of the galaxy didn't know about her collection of pet fish or how fond she was of her pet hamster named Invictus.

They didn't know the Shep who made rounds around the Normandy to check in on her crew and talk even if there wasn't anything important to say. They didn't know how wonderfully terrible she was at dancing. None of them knew her heartwarming smile or laugh and how they could make it seem like nothing was wrong in the galaxy.

But most of all, they did not know the kind of mischief she inspired in Kasumi Goto.

Kasumi already considered herself a mischief maker prior to meeting Shepard. Her brand of thievery was quite Robin Hood-esque if she said so herself. Being around Shep, though, brought out bits of mischief she wouldn't partake in otherwise due to her sense of self-preservation.

Case in point, when she went to visit Shepard the day after she woke up, she decided the best way to keep her in high spirits was to bring up Jack and Miranda's friendly behavior right in front of Miranda.

Of course the dangers of bringing up the biotic duo's new…friendship? Kasumi wasn't really sure what it was—yet. Anyway, she was well aware of the dangers, especially when she decided to frame the whole thing as budding sexual tension.

But how could she resist when laughter was the best medicine for her Shep?

_It's worth the risk_, Kasumi thought before beginning to explain everything she had seen of the pair during the weeks of post-war.

She wanted to keep her Shep laughing and smiling after experiencing the hell of the war. She…she hadn't been there for her as the best friend Shepard considered her.

After the Suicide Mission was over, Kasumi had fallen back into Keiji's graybox despite all of Shepard's help to put it and her past behind her. The memories within, her longing to have Keiji back in her life and in her arms again had consumed her, and in the end blinded her to the people still very much alive around her.

Even worse, it made her oblivious to seeing how much Shepard cared about her. During the Suicide Mission they had shared such a lovely friendship; a platonic love by the end of it, so close they barely went a day without hugging. Kasumi even made a game out of sneak hugging Shep.

And that platonic love slowly evolved into far more, like a rose finally in full bloom. Yet she hadn't even seen it. She hadn't noticed Shep's restrained desire to be more. She was blinded by past memories, unable to see the person who made her galaxy brighter just by being nearby.

Shepard…Ana had wanted so badly to confess. To tell Kasumi she loved her in that final talk at the end of the war, but she held it in. Kasumi had seen the struggle of emotions and need to say more, but she was so blind. So stupidly blind to her best friend's heart and her own.

"_I'm sorry, Shep,"_ Kasumi had apologized when Shepard woke up.

The guilt she carried since the war ended burdened her soul. The fears of losing her closest friend haunted her dreams. Tears pricked at her eyes as she watched her lay in the hospital bed, silent and unmoving, hurt on the inside and out.

Her heart pinched so tightly in her chest, squeezing the life from her, but all she could do was hold onto Shep's N7 tags. Keep them safe. Keep the symbol of her strength untarnished and her spirit protected at all costs. Keep her close to her heart. As close as possible so that she was with her wherever she went.

_I should have joined her team. I should have been there for her just like she always was for me_. But she hadn't been. She refused the offer to join her team as if being on the Normandy or around Shep was some sort of punishment despite…despite cherishing every second they ever shared together, as much as she cherished every moment she had with Keiji.

Why? Why had she been so stupid? Why did she refuse to stand by Shepard's side after she had stood by hers without question?

Kasumi regretted it so much. There were times when it was hard to breathe because she was so afraid of losing Shepard. More than a few nights a warm tear would spill over.

Shep was…Shep was important to her. Important enough that she hadn't touched Keiji's graybox since their final talk before the end of the war. Not a single second, even after she fixed it.

"_I wasn't there for you when you needed and wanted me…I turned you down without second thought. I wasn't there for you as your best friend or as friend. I'm sorry."_

An apology wouldn't fix her refusal to join her team and the hurt it caused, but she hoped she could earn her friend's forgiveness in time.

Shepard had every right to be angry with her. After everything she had done for Kasumi—from helping her retrieve Keiji's graybox to their wonderful friendship that brought light back into her life—the redhead had more than enough reason to yell at Kasumi for dense stubbornness. What she said instead caught the thief off guard.

"_No sorrys,"_ Shepard had started, her voice and sky blue eyes unwavering in intensity. _"Kasumi, you are and always will be my best friend."_ That had hit her heart strings hard, but it was just the opening salvo of compassion. _"You were there with me, always. You were always in my thoughts keeping me going all the way to the end. You gave me the strength to finish the mission and see it through to the end, to keep my promise to you."_

The promise to keep her head down and get out alive.

"_Don't torture yourself with thoughts of what could have been. I'm alive, you're alive. Let's just start there and move forward. Together."_

Kasumi had managed to sneak in an apology later in their conversation before Miranda showed up, but she was taking Shep's words to heart. She was doing her best to move forward—together this time. Where their feelings would take them she didn't know, but she couldn't deny her excitement to find out.

Her effort to move forward led her to the present moment, the one where she was steadily preparing herself for a quick exit due to the fiery glares and verbal warnings Miranda fired her way for her continued efforts to keep Shepard smiling.

"One more exaggeration out of you, Kasumi Goto, and I'll ensure your stay here at the hospital is no longer based on visitation," Miranda hissed, a faint hint of pink on her pale cheeks.

Shepard stifled a laugh behind her hand, her sky blue eyes shining with amusement and practically begging Kasumi to continue. Smiling widely, Kasumi covertly prepared to make her exit.

There was no way she could let this moment go when her Shep was on the verge of losing all control of her laughter. For her Shep's happiness, no threat of danger was enough to keep her from pushing the boundary of mischief.

"Aw, but I haven't even gotten to the best part yet," Kasumi mocked a whine.

Miranda's icy blue eyes burned with an intense flame that might have kept her from continuing in any other circumstance. "If you exaggerate this too—"

"All I was going to say was Jack gave you a pep talk and helped you refocus. That's it! I promise," Kasumi lied.

Silence fell between the two as Miranda held her prisoner under her gaze for a few moments longer, looking for any crack in her shadowed features.

Kasumi waited. Patience was her chosen weapon today. When the raven-haired woman began to relax, she launched her final attack. "And that Jack's pep talk stirred warm feelings you couldn't quite describe, but they drove you to change your outfit _for_ Jack in a gallant effort to woo her."

Biotic's flared around Miranda and a deadly look crossed her features. "Kasumi, I'm about to make your stay in the hospital become permanent."

"Bye Shep!" Kasumi rushed out the door as quickly as possible with Shepard's hysterical laughter following her out.

"You won't be able to hide forever!" Miranda threatened.

The doors hissed shut and Kasumi exhaled a sigh of relief. "What'd you do to piss off the Cheerleader and make the Girl Scout laugh so hard?"

Turning her head, she found Jack sitting right outside of the room on guard duty, a confused but slightly amused look on her face.

Inspired to be mischievous again for Shepard's sake, who was still laughing inside her room, Kasumi threw all caution to the wind for her final act.

"I was just explaining to Shep about how you and Miranda have gotten friendlier, and I might have also told her that your pep talk stirred warm feelings within Miranda's heart. Feelings that urged her to change her outfit _for_ you in a gallant effort to woo you." Kasumi tilted her head to the side. "Out of curiosity, has it? There's still a market for it."

The reactions she expected were almost instantaneous. First was the stunned silence from Jack at the insinuation Kasumi just made. Barely a second later, the doors to Shepard's room opened to reveal an infuriated, biotic glowing Miranda standing there, hands curled into tight fists and a look that would have incinerated her into a pile of ash.

And then Jack's anger took over, a sleuth of curses firing from her mouth as she sprang out of her seat to make good on her threats.

Kasumi, thinking quickly, hit her cloak and dashed for the exit, curses and laughter chasing her all the way to the lobby.

What she had done practically ensured she wouldn't be able to see Shepard until late tonight without the threat of injury, but despite that her lips didn't cease their joyful grin for many long minutes after the incident. The thought of Shepard's laughter kept her heart thrumming with gleeful warmth.

_Totally worth it._

* * *

A Few Days Later

* * *

The plan Miranda created for Shepard's physical therapy had one sole purpose behind it: a slow, safe climb towards recovery. From her perspective, there was no rush for Shepard to jump back into the briar patch of problems the galaxy was currently wading through.

So far they were doing fairly well for being almost a full month out from the end of the war. Comms were being fixed, Geth were being reactivated and ideas on how to fix the Relay were being thrown around by some of the smartest minds on a daily basis.

Shepard certainly had power to throw around, favors she could cash in on and the respect of an entire galaxy, but the worn down solider needed time to rejuvenate and recharge after everything she experienced.

Miranda had seen the wear and tear that morning she spent with her. Every wince of pain, every moment her features revealed her emotional and mental exhaustion, they all told a story of a soldier pushed to her limits.

Anyone else would have collapsed long before Shepard had, but that was just a testament to her remarkable willpower.

It was that same willpower that Miranda prepared to see during her recovery. Regardless of how slowly they tried to take it, the N7 would inevitably start making leaps and bounds that could scale a Harbinger-class Reaper in a single jump.

Trying to stop it was like trying to stop tsunami wave; you'd only end up being swept away by the untamable power of Mother Nature.

When Shepard started walking without support only a few days into physical therapy, every nurse and doctor involved in her recovery was stunned. Not Miranda. After witnessing her ability to wake up and shoot her way through a Cerberus facility overrun by mechs, she half excepted Shepard to be doing sprints by the end of the week.

She couldn't fault the other doctors for their shock. They may have heard the stories of Commander Shepard, but hearing of the living legend and witnessing her unparalleled tenacity in person was about as different as pre-Reaper Thessia was from Tuchanka.

Until you saw her in action, the stories sounded too incredible to be true.

Miranda had once felt the same way. Of course she believed Shepard was an icon for a reason; it wasn't like she disbelieved her role in the fight against Saren and Sovereign, but she still kept her expectations low.

Tales like Shepard's could easily be exaggerated to make her legend more grandiose than it should be. Besides, she was the personification of perfection, right? What could this normal human have that she did not already possess?

_A lot, quite frankly_.

This wasn't to say Shepard hadn't run face first into unbreakable walls, figuratively speaking. The last few days of physical therapy had been, at times, inexplicably frustrating and agonizingly painful.

At the end of the day, Shepard was a soldier. Her body was forged in the fires of her N7 training to listen to her commands no matter the circumstance or the pain. In her mind, when her legs refused to support her weight or shooting pains disabled her shoulder, it was her body failing her.

_And failure is unacceptable to her._

Down but never out, Shepard used each failure as motivation to do better in her next effort. Miranda applauded her hard work while simultaneously reconfiguring her original plan to keep up with Shepard's progress.

At this rate she'd be out of the hospital and back at the apartment by the weeks end. She'd still be monitored and need to keep up with her physical therapy, but she would no longer have to spend her days and nights in a hospital room.

_I'm sure that news will motivate her to keep up her progress_, Miranda thought as she walked with a purpose towards Shepard's room, an Asari nurse flanking her as she rambled excitedly about the progress the Commander was making.

Miranda herself was excited, though not exclusively about Shepard's recovery. Several minutes ago she received a group message from Kasumi relaying wonderful news: the Normandy made contact with her.

According to the reply she received from Joker, they were about a day or two away from reaching the Citadel. Damage to the ship made traveling slow, but otherwise there were no casualties or severe injuries among the crew.

_Can't ask for better news than that._ Miranda exited the decontamination hall with the Asari nurse and crossed the floor to Shepard's room. Opening the door, Miranda and the nurse halted all movement and conversation completely at the sight they were met with.

Kasumi was gently pushing Shepard backwards onto her hospital bed, their lips locked in a deep and passionate kiss.

Had Shepard been fully dressed, the kiss would have been easily excused by the innocence of newly bloomed love. She was not fully dressed. Instead she sat in a sports bra and shorts with her tank top lying discarded on the bed—whether stripped off or never put on was debatable.

On top of that, or more accurately on top of her, was Kasumi's armored body pressed flush against Shepard's.

Altogether their position and current state of almost nudity did not fluster or bother Miranda. The Asari nurse, on the other hand, did become flustered. Her blue cheeks were turning a deeper shade of blue as she tried, and failed, to hide her bashful smile at interrupting such an intimate moment.

Miranda held no qualms about the interruption; in fact she was feeling quite triumphant at the moment and couldn't keep herself from smiling.

_Well, that took less time than I imagined._

Things were starting to get heated between the pair, however, and that was something Miranda had no desire to be a witness of.

"Ahem!" she cleared her throat. Both women froze up at the sound, twisting her lips into a smirk of pure amusement. _Caught you._

Kasumi's eyes flicked over quickly to scan her surroundings, a blush forming on both her cheeks and Shepard's at having an audience.

Any embarrassment from the redhead faded quickly; she leaned up and nibbled playfully on Kasumi's lip before resting her weight back onto her elbows with an air of victory. Not to be outdone, Kasumi leaned closer and captured her lips again, earning a small sound of surprised pleasure from Shepard.

_Okay, enough of this._ Miranda wasn't going to sit here and watch these to battle over who got the last kiss when there were still things needing done. She had a schedule to maintain. They could kiss as much as they bloody well wanted when she wasn't around.

She cleared her throat more forcibly this time, a lingering threat underneath it that was immediately recognized by the troublemaking pair.

Kasumi stepped away, allowing Shepard the space to sit up fully and turn her attention to the arriving doctors. "Miranda, I was just on my way to physical therapy," Shepard said, sounding as if she hadn't been caught stripped of her shirt in the middle of an intense kiss.

Miranda snorted in amusement. "I can see that. So did you plan to do that before or after you two were done _preparing_ for _physical therapy_?"

"She was actually going to help me get my tank top on as soon as we finished," Shepard retorted, wearing a cheeky smile.

The nurse excused herself with a bow of her head before taking her leave.

Miranda waited patiently for the doors to close before her smirk fully manifested into a knowing smile. Oh she was never going to let them live this down. After Kasumi's inaccurate exaggerations about her friendship with Jack, this was the exact scenario she needed to extract banter based retribution.

Plus she won a hundred credits thanks to whoever initiated the kiss. Overall, today was turning out to be a good day.

"I'll get ready and explain on the way to physical therapy. It isn't meant to be a secret but I would like to be the one to tell the guys," Shepard said.

She nodded, willing to grant Shepard the chance to tell the others on her own free will. Her amusement refused to die, however. The amount of ammunition now in her possession for banter was insurmountable.

The next several days would see her no longer playing defense because of how well Kasumi and Shepard worked together. Today she'd begin her retaliatory counterattack and savor every moment of it for as long as it lasted.

"Speaking of which," Miranda spoke up, "did Kasumi tell you the news?" Shepard's eyes left her to return back to Kasumi. The sheepish smile that formed on the thief's lips was answer enough.

Miranda hummed knowingly. "Guess you distracted her before she could tell you." She met Kasumi's eyes with her amusement still shining in her blue eyes. "Kasumi, can I trust you to fill her in and get her dressed _without_ distractions."

The thief nodded, her lips pulled into a small smile. Miranda knew them far too well to believe that innocent look. As soon as she was out the door they'd be back to kissing each other like smitten lovers in one of Kasumi's romance novels.

Still, she'd let it slide. For a little while, at least. They deserved to enjoy themselves, so long as that enjoyment didn't end in inappropriate public behavior.

Without another word she turned and exited the room to wait for the pair. Barely a moment after her exit laughter and giggles began to erupt out of both women. Their happiness was contagious, she had to admit, smiling to herself as the laughter would die and then start again.

As she stood there listening to the joyous laughter coming from the two love birds, her mind was drawn back to her final conversation with Shepard before the end of the war.

"_This isn't goodbye. You have to believe we're not done yet, that there is something good waiting for all of us beyond this war."_

Miranda smiled. At the time the words were meant to stir hope in her heart and keep her from running away again. But now, now she was seeing firsthand Shepard's hopes becoming reality.

Maybe that meant even someone as flawed as her could do the same. Maybe her happiness was somewhere right around the corner where she least expected it.

After all, if the mischief of a thief could charm an Alliance Commander then maybe ice could be charmed by fire.

_Maybe…_


	10. Chapter 10: Welcome Home

Chapter 10

Welcome Home

"Is that…all…you got…Shepard?" Jack jeered as she reached the apex of each pull-up.

"I'm just…getting…started," Shepard retorted breathlessly.

Jack and Shepard hung side by side on a long pull-up bar, the latter woman fighting to match the former's pace and repetitions. Not to brag, but Jack was feeling pretty damn good despite being on their fiftieth rep. And these weren't wimpy pull-ups or shitty form ones either. She was going all the way up and all the way down. Felt good.

Unlike the struggling N7 next to her, though, she hadn't spent almost a full month unconscious, so that may have increased the odds of her inevitable victory in their competition. To her credit, the Girl Scout showed no sign of giving up. She kept a competitive look on her face, pushing herself to keep up with her tattooed counterpart.

Internally, Jack couldn't help but smile. Although she was taking it easy on Shepard, for the Girl Scout to be keeping up with the pace she set was pretty fucking amazing. They weren't speeding through or trailing in agonizing slow monotony that would make an Elcor want to smash its massive head against a wall.

Jack picked a steady rhythm, and Shepard matched it beat for beat. Rep for rep. After thirty reps Shepard did have to shorten the distance she lowered herself so she could make it back up again, but that was fine. Really. It didn't bother Jack one little bit, nor did she call the N7 out on it.

Every pull-up Shepard performed after still had her intensity and focus behind it, and that was a difference maker in exercise.

_Body may not have the same strength, but that damn indomitable will of hers hasn't weakened one bit_. Jack fought against her lips need to lift into a smile. _Keep fighting, Girl Scout. Give those Reaper bastards the final fuck you by recovering fully._

Three days had passed since the message from Joker reached Kasumi, but as far as Shepard knew the Normandy had yet to show up. Little did she know of the surprise currently waiting for her back at the apartment.

_Can't wait to see the look on her face when she finally gets back._

She could savor that later. Right now she had a responsibility to monitor Shepard's progress in this pull-up contest she challenged her to. If she didn't and the redhead ended up injured, Miranda would become a bigger, nagging pain in her tattooed ass than usual.

Her challenge wasn't without purpose or without a fight to get it to happen. Damn Cheerleader barely gave her a chance to explain her reasons when she brought it up, shooting down the idea within seconds, which led to their first real argument since the end of the war.

Both of them were too stubborn to give any ground for a long time. Voices were raised repeatedly. Jack dropped several colorful curses. Even Miranda's usual calm demeanor faded for visible frustration until _finally_ Jack was able to get her point through her thick skull.

_"You can't keep treating her like she's a fucking porcelain doll, Miranda_." The use of her name actually halted Miranda from immediately firing back. _"I'm not saying your physical therapy is bad or that it's ineffective or that it isn't doing shit. It is working, better than I thought it would to be honest."_

Jack never had the luxury of physical therapy after some of her more shitty injuries, so she never thought much of the process. It seemed like nothing more than a waste of time. Just slap a bandage on it and walk it off had been her philosophy, but that was short-term thinking. That was the thought process of someone who didn't have the forethought to consider how her body would age and react to past injuries.

Miranda wasn't thinking short-term. She looked beyond the immediate problems to the possible complications down the line. What she was trying to do was ensure Shepard's future wasn't one bound to a wheelchair or a cane thirty or forty years before she should even see any signs of aging.

Jack respected that. She appreciated Miranda's diligence for the sake of their friend. Really, she did.

"_I know you're just trying to do what's best for Shepard. I get that and trust you to keep her on track. But fuck," she sighed heavily, exhausted by their argument, "give her a chance to prove to herself that she can still kick some ass."_

_ "…On one condition."_

_ "What?" Jack asked, sighing again. __**About fucking time she started listening**__._

_ "Don't get lost in the competition. I need you to monitor her the entire time. If you see any signs of—"_

_ "Yeah, yeah. I'll stop her and bring her straight to you." Jack rolled her eyes. "Shit, you're worse of a mother hen than Kahlee and Shepard are."_

_"And you're more bullheaded than Shepard is."_

_"Hey, whoa, the Girl Scout is a bigger stubborn pain in the ass than I am."_

_ Miranda smirked. "Debatable."_

_ "Yeah, fuck you too, Cheerleader"_

_She's a real pain in my ass_, Jack thought without any heart behind it. Miranda might have been a pain in the ass, but she was her…the Normandy team's pain in the ass.

_At least convincing Shepard went smoothly_, her thoughts swiftly changed subject to ignore acknowledging her near slip-up. She _may_ have used an underhanded tactic to convince Shepard into this contest.

"_Time to get your slacking ass back up to strength. You want to rock Kasumi's world, right? Then you're going to get on that bar and match me in pull-ups today to see how well the Cheerleader's crap worked. If it didn't work, as I expect, you are going to be working your ass off with me to get back to the ass kicking queen of the girl scouts that you are."_

Shepard blushed like a damn teenager confronted by their parents about having sex and immediately agreed to the challenge. Underhanded? Yeah, probably, but fuck it. No sense complaining about it since it worked in her favor.

With the contest underway, the pair didn't hesitate to taunt one another on every single rep. Sounded like an ego fest, but it wasn't. Not to Jack. She poked and prodded Shepard to keep her in the moment. On the here and now.

If she had a spare moment to think Shepard's mind could trail elsewhere, traveling to concerns over the whereabouts of the Normandy, or perhaps up in the clouds thinking about Kasumi instead of on the exercise.

When it came to exercise or anything involving her students, Jack had a strict no half-assing rule. Continually prodding egos or using her brand of pep-talks kept those on the receiving end from giving anything less than their very best.

Shepard's return fire seemed to be in a futile attempt to get her off the bar to claim victory.

She would only end up disappointed. Nothing was about to get Jack to let go of the bar. Nothing short of a sudden attack by assholes, at least.

Behind the two biotic's somewhere were Zaeed, Jacob and Grunt playing a game of Skyllian Five. Judging by laughs alone, Zaeed was kicking some serious ass, not that she was surprised. The old man always gave the team a challenge when they gathered around for a game.

Their presence deterred reporters and other civilians from trespassing into the recovery room. Usually. She'd seen a few snaky reporters try to sneak in when she was on guard duty, but they never got close enough for any footage. C-Sec always seemed to materialize from nowhere to cut the gossip junkies off and escort them away, not that she was complaining.

Better for Commander Bailey's people to handle them than her. They wouldn't crush their little camera drones or frighten them off with curses or pulsing biotics. Jack would, and she wouldn't regret a second of it. It'd probably even be entertaining.

As for civilians, they scheduled Shepard's use of the recovery room around the others so they could use it privately. Having people bawl their eyes out and hug her would just be weird.

Plus it allowed Shepard and Jack to strip themselves of their upper layer of clothing—a tank top and jacket respectively—and let their bodies sweat and breathe without hindrance or leave them worrying about some asshole snapping a picture of Shepard in a sports bra with intentions to send it to the tabloids or something.

Shepard slowed down a bit next to her, causing Jack to snap her eyes over and examine the N7 for signs of injury. A sheen of sweat covered her body as her muscles rippled under the strain of the exercise. But there was no sign of pain or discomfort beyond the obvious, only a distracted look as her mind traveled elsewhere—likely to a certain thief.

Jack's lips twisted into a humored smirk. "Losing focus…Shepard?" she taunted.

The N7 blinked out of her daze and pumped out a few pull-ups then fell back into synchronicity. "Just giving…you a chance, Jack."

Jack frowned. No fitness expert was needed to know Shepard was running out of steam, and yet she could feel the gears turning in Shepard's mind—a dangerous problem she hadn't fully prepared for.

Shepard obviously held no intention of losing this contest. But she wasn't stupid. Winning through outlasting Jack would be an impossible fantasy she had no hope of accomplishing. Shepard knew that, which meant her next move was to taunt Jack into releasing the bar.

Anyone else wouldn't stand a chance in hell at pulling off such a desperate gamble. Well, except maybe Kasumi.

In the past pissing her off wouldn't have taken much. Times had changed, for the better obviously, but Shepard knew Jack as well as Jack knew the Grissom Academy students.

The few cards possible of angering her into dropping off the bar to kick ass weren't known to many, fortunately. But if there was anyone who could figure out those cards, it was the Girl Scout.

"Giving me…a chance?" she questioned, hesitantly taking the bait.

"Yeah…Don't want…to beat you…too badly."

Deep down Jack knew replying was a terrible idea. Shepard had a desperate plan concocted, a plan the tattooed woman wouldn't be able to counteract if she kept snapping at the piece of bait like a hungry Varren. Unfortunately for Jack, her damn mouth had a mind of its own sometimes.

"Why?"

A flash of victory shone in Shepard's eyes, matched with a triumphant smile pulling onto her lips.

_Oh shit_.

"What would…Miri think?" Yep, her inevitable victory was about to burn up in the atmosphere. "Well, she would…probably think…her abilities to heal…are great but…she may scold _you_…for slacking."

Zaeed chuckled from behind them. "Hold on boys. This is about to get good."

"Fuck…you," Jack grunted.

How could she have been so stupid to open herself up to that attack? Of fucking course Shepard would play dirty. Why wouldn't she after the shit Jack herself pulled to get this contest to happen in the first place?

"No denial?" Shepard teased.

_Fuck me._ And she gave her another damn opening when everyone who knew Shepard understood how dangerous that was. It was practically an unspoken rule to _never_ give the Girl Scout an opening in any circumstance to turn the tables, because the moment she found a crack in the defenses, she would attack relentlessly until victory was all but assured.

Verbal responses were off the table. Jack had come to the realization lately that when it came to the Cheerleader, her mouth was her worst enemy.

It never fucking stopped putting her into positions where she was either embarrassed by her own stupidity or left her talking about emotional shit she wasn't used to. The confusing mess of her feelings on the Cheerleader didn't help her at all either.

Jack wasn't a complete idiot. She could understand what some of the shit meant, but honestly there was little she could do about it on her own.

The entire argument going on in her head regarding those damn feelings was a never ending circular argument of '_No sense hiding from it. I care about her_' and '_What the fuck? How the fuck did this happen? Nah, there must be a different reason_' until she just wanted to crash her forehead face first into a wall.

It was fucking insanity. Burying it was no longer an option, not with the way they kept growing closer. The only real option was talking to Miranda about it, but…

_Fuck that._ No way. No fucking way was she doing it. Even if it seemed like she was in the same boat, there was no way in hell she'd bring this up to her.

What if she was wrong? What if the Cheerleader's little flirtations and touching meant absolutely nothing? What if she had gotten attached like a moron in a way that should have never happened?

What if…what if these feelings were reciprocated? What if there was more to this than a need to get laid? What did it mean? Could they even make it work? It's not like they didn't have their own responsibilities. Miranda had her sister to watch after and take care of and she had her students. Neither of them could ever put the other before them.

_And why the fuck am I thinking about a relationship with the Cheerleader at a time like this?!_ Argh, it was so damn frustrating! It had been this way ever since she asked her to replace her plug-in.

Anytime her mind had time to wander off she'd end up thinking about Miranda. She'd think about how warm her icy eyes were and how the emotions in them were no longer caged from her. She would remember her laughter and how it made her heart flutter. She even thought about how Miranda's fingertips felt when they brushed against her bare skin and how good it felt, silently thankful for the increase of physical contact between them.

There were times when the feelings were so vivid, incentivizing her imagination to run wild. Just imagining how it might feel to be in each other's personal space, eyes locked as their hands glided across the bare parts of their clothed bodies was enough to give her good chills. And that was one of the more censored ideas she had. Other ones were…well…

_Stay focused!_ Jack held herself up at the top of her pull-up and kicked Shepard right in the ass for payback. This was all her fault anyways.

"I'm just saying Jack," Shepard continued without hesitation. "…Now that the war is over…you two can relieve…all the stress you need to and finally…come to terms with…your budding love."

The guys chuckled behind them as Jack let out an irritated growl. "If you were…anyone else…I would kick…your fucking ass."

"Still no denial? Hey Zaeed…did I miss out on…their marriage?"

The older veteran chuckled. "Nah, they're still jus' eye fuckin' each other. It's embarrassin' really, the two of them hiding from what has been growing between them since the Collectors. They're like two goddamned teenage virgins prancing around each other without the frilly dresses," Zaeed responded.

Jack dropped off the pull up bar. "That's it old man! Your ass is mine!"

When she was done with him, he'd have a permanent imprint of her boot stomping in his old ass!

A light laugh from Shepard stopped her from destroying the old veteran in an explosion of biotics. Pausing, she looked back to see Shepard finish a final pull-up before dropping off the bar, a triumphant grin on her face. "Looks like I win."

Jack looked at her, then the bar and then back to Shepard, slowly piecing together exactly what she had just done. Realization of the situation hit her an instant later, deflating the tattooed biotic like a popped balloon and bringing a displeased frown to her face. _I'm a fucking idiot._

"Damn you, Shepard."

She had fallen for that little trick like a complete sucker. Zaeed hadn't even stopped playing his game of cards to acknowledge the threat to his life. It was a damn dirty trick, but Jack would give credit where credit was due.

Shepard outplayed her, plain and simple.

Jack's agitation at losing faded quickly. This competition hadn't been to boost her own ego; the whole purpose was to let Shepard see for herself that she could still kick some ass. Seeing as she showed no sign of injury _and_ pulled off an upset victory, Jack considered the whole thing a success. There was one problem, however.

_Cheerleader is never going to let me live this down._

She could already hear her relentless teasing paired with that stupid amused smile she struggled to stay mad at. The icy eyes flickering in delight at Jack's misfortune. The warm hum of amusement. It would piss her off if she didn't enjoy it so much.

_I…I seriously need to figure this shit out._

"You okay Shepard?" Jacob asked as he approached the two biotic's with towels.

_Just not right now_, she procrastinated again as she noticed the faraway look in Shepard's eyes disappear. Jacob handed her and then Shepard a towel to wipe off their sweat.

"Yeah, just can't wait to get out of this hospital."

_Wish I could tell you about the surprise, Girl Scout. Ease your worries._ Unlike the last time, the contemplative look on Shepard's face did not revolve around Kasumi or their relationship. The weight of her concerns were burdening her again, the fear for the fate of their friends never fading.

_Can't tell her_. Jack sighed. _I hope you finished checking her out of this hospital, Miranda. I'm not sure how much longer I can stand seeing her look so weighed down._

Hoping to distract Shepard again from her concerns, Jack smirked at her while wiping the sweat from her arms and said, "We could always lower you out the window like Grunt's pals did last time he was here."

The reminder of their little berserkopath's 'incident' during the shore leave did the trick. Shepard's eyes brightened immediately as her lips split into a fond smile.

Grunt's deep rumbling chuckle drew their attention to him, seeing a wide, toothy grin as he set his cards down—a ten of spades and an ace. On the floor was a queen, a nine, a jack and a king.

"Goddamn it," Zaeed cursed as he frowned down at his two pair.

_Seems Tiny is getting the hang of the game if that straight flush is a sign of anything._ She'd have to keep an eye on him the next time she played.

"Need creds old man?" Jack asked.

"Not like you'd give me any if I asked. Not after helping Shepard out," he grumbled as he grabbed the cards and reshuffled the deck. "One more round, Tiny?"

"Sure. Maybe you can win some of your dignity back this time," the Krogan challenged.

"Jacob?" Zaeed asked.

"Yeah deal me in." Jacob looked to the two women. "You two want in?"

It'd certainly be fun, but she had other priorities to handle. "Nah, I've got to bring her Highness here back to see if the Cheerleader got her checked out of the hospital yet. You three should head back too."

The guys nodded, each suddenly remembering what the overall plan today was. First step: distract Shepard until Miranda finished discharging her from the hospital. Second step: bring her back to the apartment for the surprise.

Grunt and Zaeed got off the floor and left the room with Jacob after short farewells. Shepard moved to grab her black tank top while Jack grabbed her black jacket, both throwing them on before the tattooed biotic motioned Shepard to follow her out.

The recovery room they were in was a part of Huerta, just not on the same floor as her room was, leaving the two to take the elevator back up to the floor.

They remained in comfortable silence for most of the trip. Nearing the end of the ride, Shepard broke the silence. "Hey Jack, you and Miri—"

"Shut up Shepard," Jack cut her off before she could begin.

None of Shepard's or Kasumi's teasing was ever done with ill intent; Jack knew that and it didn't really ever bother her. But with the giant mess of confusion currently overrunning her mind, her current capacity for jokes was at its limit.

"I wasn't going to tease or anything," Shepard clarified quickly. "I wanted to tell you that no matter if you two are just being more friendly for my sake or because of something during the war or if it is more; whatever it is, I enjoy seeing the two of you not threatening to smear the walls with each other anymore."

Jack expected the hints of a smirk to preamble a coming joke. A cheeky grin, maybe. But Shepard's features remained full of honesty. Confusion took hold of the tattooed biotic.

"What, no witty remark?"

Not that she was disappointed. She just…wasn't prepared for Shepard to be so supportive. _I thought it was just a big joke to her._

Shepard shook her head. "Nope. I may tease, but even if there was something more going on I wouldn't have any problem with it. As long as you two don't kill each other I will approve of whatever type of relationship you two have. Friendship, rivalry, or love, it doesn't matter to me. You two are grown women, you can make whatever decisions you want…Well as long as it doesn't kill you." She smiled. "I'd miss you both."

Uncertain of what to say and feeling uncomfortable because of it, Jack fell back on natural instinct. She slugged Shepard in the arm and brushed it off, "Yeah yeah, you don't need to get all touchy feely with me about it. Speaking of friendship, do I need to touch up the tattoo I gave you?"

Before the party at Shepard's apartment, Jack had given the redhead a tattoo above her left leg on her waist. Prior to that day, Jack had never tattooed another person besides herself.

Tattoos were a deeply personal thing for her, and no one else ever meant enough to her to actually tattoo them. Not until Shepard or her kids, at least, though Kahlee forbade her from giving them any ink since they were still so young.

Shepard had been all for it when she asked if she could do it. It took several hours, but now her waist was marked by a smaller version of the Greek Omega symbol Jack had on her back. Nothing big or bright and colorful, but that didn't matter.

It was a sign of their friendship, something Jack would always be grateful of.

"No, it's still in good condition. Unless you are implying you want to see more leg from me."

Jack punched her again with a roll of her eyes and a smirk. That thought never even crossed her mind. Shepard was a great friend, nothing more and nothing less. Besides, Shepard's heart belonged to Kasumi. Anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.

"I was wondering if you could give me another."

Jack nodded. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"

"Not entirely sure yet. I'm still thinking about it, but I'll let you know soon."

The tattooed biotic nodded, her ponytail bobbing as she did. _No doubt revolving around Kasumi._

The pair exited the elevator and walked onto the main floor of Huerta. With a quick search they found Miranda at the counter wearing a white V-neck and black jeans. She was in the midst of discussing something with one of the other nurses, a smile on her face as she spoke.

Jack felt her heart flutter again and decided at that moment that she could no longer dance around this…whatever this was.

There was no denying it: she cared about Miranda and found her attractive. What it meant, if it meant anything beyond getting laid, needed to be confronted by them both. In the end, they shared equal guilt in the formation of their new connection.

Over the course of the last month they revealed pieces of their vulnerabilities to each other, and when they needed it they found comfort in supporting each other. The closer they became, the more they engaged in stealing glance and getting caught doing so, all of it leading up to their current closeness and increase of physical contact.

_Something_ was brewing between them. Jack couldn't say where her heart stood on the issue, too concerned with what Miranda might or might not feel about her to open herself to the possibility of getting hurt.

She didn't want to go back to hating one another, that she could say with certainty. But they needed to figure this out, make whatever the feelings were real and either move on or try whatever it was they wanted.

One person was responsible for this sudden determination and foolish bravery.

"Shepard?" Shepard looked over to Jack with a questioning look.

Her support of the possibility of more happening between her and Miranda gave her the courage to find out if more could happen. Jack couldn't say if anything could work out, definitely with how devoted they were to the people they cared most for…but she wanted to find out if these feelings meant anything.

With Shepard's support, she'd take that blind leap of faith.

"Thanks."

Shepard smiled and gave her nod.

Miranda saw them coming a few moments later. She finished her conversation and greeted the pair with a nod. "Shepard, Jack."

"Hey Miri, am I allowed to leave?" Shepard asked.

She smiled and handed a data-pad over to the clerk behind the counter. "As a matter of fact, yes. I already had Kasumi move all of your stuff to your apartment and begin working on making it livable with the others who weren't watching you. She should be back any second now."

"Knowing Kasumi, she'll probably pop up any second now. Maybe she'll grab Shepard's ass now that they are together," Jack joked.

The action would certainly make the Commander blush feverishly and provide great banter ammunition.

"Well my ass is nice," Shepard retorted. An evil smile pulled onto her lips. "Besides, it would certainly make up for the lack of ass grabbing I see between you two. Prudes."

Ah, so they were back to this.

"Seriously Shepard?" Jack questioned.

"I am not a prude," Miranda responded defensively.

Shepard merely shrugged and crossed her arms. "I told you already Miri, the moment I see you show some public display of affection I will believe it." Both women shook their heads at her, faint pink tinting their cheeks as they both secretly thought about the other. "Like this."

Shepard pulled at an invisible weight, the action causing the cloak around Kasumi to deactivate and reveal her to the group. The pair kissed unabashedly in front of their friends and in the middle of a busy hospital, unafraid of what anyone might say or think.

Jack glanced over to Miranda, a smirk on her lips and a look that read, _Can you believe these two?_

Miranda offered a small shrug. _At least they're happy_, seemed to be the message. That or, _What do you expect me to do about it?_

After the two lovers released one another, they turned back to their audience, both smiling widely as one set of their hands remained entwined. Around Kasumi's neck were Shepard's N7 tags displayed proudly for all to see who her heart belonged to.

"Everything is back at the apartment, Miranda. Is Shep ready to go?"

Miranda shook her head at the open display of affection once more with a smile before nodding. "Yes. I take it you're going to walk her back?"

"Yep. Are you and Jack going together?"

The two biotic's stared at her with neutral expressions, neither willing to snap at the bait placed out for them. Kasumi, never one without a quip, still managed to find a way to tease them.

"What? I just don't want you two to get lost in some dark alley or at some romantic restaurant. I worry about you two and this pent up emotion."

Jack and Miranda simultaneously rolled their eyes and gave their separate goodbyes before leaving ahead of the two lovebirds.

"So, how did it go?" Miranda asked as they made their way back to the apartment.

"She won," Jack stated plainly.

No sense dodging around the facts like she was dodging gunfire. Treat it like a bandage and rip it off quickly so she could move on.

Miranda turned to her with an incredulous look on her face. "Are you serious?" Jack raised her eyebrows and let her features reveal how stupid she thought the question was. "How?" she asked, disbelief prevalent in her voice.

"Ah, we were talking shit the entire time. Zaeed joined in to anger me into dropping off. It worked." She shrugged. "Fair game considering some of the shit I said. Otherwise she was fine. Gave it her all and definitely had fun. Can't be too angry about that."

"Mm. Dare I ask what they said?"

Jack cast a long look her way. "What do you think?"

"Ah," Miranda dipped her head in a nod and frowned, "of course. Crafty, I'll give them that." Her frown was replaced by a teasing smile. "But really? You lost to Shepard? Sounds like I need to ask Kahlee Sanders to put you through more training."

Jack's lips curled into a scowl as she sent a glare at the Cheerleader. "Don't make me bounce your bubbly ass into orbit with a shockwave."

"We're already in orbit, Jack," Miranda retorted dryly. Her lips then upturned into a cheeky smirk. "Besides, you'd miss my 'bubbly ass' as much as I'd miss hearing your charming use of coarse language."

"So sentimental," Jack drawled. "Are you trying to make me cry, Cheerleader?"

She snorted. "I wasn't aware you were the crying type." A finger jabbed her side, sending a jolt of shock and then warmth through her. "Who knew underneath this hard shell was such a sensitive heart."

The tattooed biotic fought against the warmth beginning to flush her cheeks, looking away and scowling through it. "Bite me," she grumbled. "This sensitive heart can still kick your ass, you know."

"Mm," came the amused hum. "I'll pass. Wouldn't want to bruise your ego anymore."

"I hate you."

Miranda smiled at her. "No you don't."

No, she did not.

Comfortable silence fell between the pair for the rest of the walk back. The entire way Jack fought an intense, and yet also thrilling, battle to summon up the courage necessary to ask a simple question full of complex emotions.

_Just say it. Just fucking ask the damn question._

The words remained lodged in her throat, refusing to budge no matter how hard she tried push them out.

As they exited the elevator leading to Shepard's apartment, Jack's mouth started moving as her legs refused to budge. "Miranda…"

Miranda stopped to look at her. "Yes?"

Jack shifted uncomfortably, brown eyes refusing to meet blue. "Can we talk later…Privately? There's something I need to talk to you about."

A nod. "Of course."

Satisfied and too nervous to say anything else, they walked into the apartment and went their separate ways to talk to the different members of the Normandy team. Not long after, Shepard and Kasumi arrived, the redhead of the pair halting in stunned silence at the sight that greeted her.

"Hey Commander, fancy meeting you here," Joker called from the couch.

"Is this the part where we yell surprise?" Garrus asked from the kitchen with a bottle of an alcoholic beverage in his hand.

Jack grinned to herself when she saw the happiness taking over Shepard, tears welling in her eyes at seeing all of her closest friends under one roof.

_Nice work, Kasumi._

She had no idea what would happen in her next conversation with Miranda, but nothing could wreck this great feeling of their giant family coming together after the war.

_Welcome home, Shepard._


	11. Chapter 11: Defining the Unknown

Chapter 11

Defining the Unknown

Miranda was quite impressed by how well Kasumi's surprise turned out. When the thief first approached her with the idea, Miranda couldn't help but cock an eyebrow and explain the many roadblocks she'd face along the way.

Shepard and the Normandy were forever sewed into the very core of the Milky Way's war against the Reapers. The ship, its crew and the woman who commanded it had gone from icons to literal living legends. The name of the ship was in everyone's vocabulary. How could they hope to hide its arrival?

At most they could hide it from Shepard only. It wouldn't necessarily be problematic. They already controlled her schedule and accessibility to the outside world, and so long as they kept her in two designated areas—her room and the recovery room—her chances of learning of the Normandy's arrival on her own were slim.

To hide it from the entire Citadel population, however, was impossible. They were an uncontrollable variable.

News of any recognized ship or team of war heroes tended to spread across the Citadel faster than news of the Genophage cure. The Normandy would receive the same treatment except at FTL speeds. Whether they liked it or not, Shepard was bound to learn of the Normandy's return when it happened, or so she thought at the time.

Kasumi somehow still managed to convince her to go through with her plan, regardless of how impossible it seemed. Rather than hiding the Normandy return from the whole of the Citadel, she planned to keep the news of its return away from Shepard and Shepard alone.

"_You just have to get her checked out of the hospital early,"_ Kasumi had told her.

Discharging her early was doable and certainly increased their chance of success. However, the challenge remained high. Shepard was, if nothing else, exceptionally perceptive to the attitudes and emotions of those around her, especially when it came to her crew. How they acted could easily let the surprise slip if they weren't careful.

Still, there was an opportunity to be had here, and Kasumi didn't intend to squander it.

"_Why do I feel like this is some sort of elaborate plan so you two can have sex?"_

Her dry delivery of the tease left the thief flustered, leading her to hastily explain the rest of her plan, possibly in an attempt to prove the lack of ulterior motive.

Either way, Miranda savored the win and Jack's roaring laughter before inevitably promising to uphold her end of the bargain.

As expected, the return of the legendary ship came with much fanfare. Hackett, Anderson and Ambassador Osoba gathered at the docking bay alongside Kasumi and Miranda to witness it and greet those aboard when they docked.

Beyond the docking bay, however, crowds gathered around working vid-screens to watch their return live, almost as if they were all watching their species launch their first space craft.

The entire Citadel thrummed with excitement and nerves; everyone waited with bated breath as the ship glided into the docking bay, some likely praying to their specific gods while others—like Miranda—held their breath.

When the final docking clamp latched on and the Normandy shut down, cheers resounded across the Citadel. Miranda, Anderson, Hackett, Osoba and Kasumi all felt relief wash over them; their bodies relaxed and their breathing resumed as smiles pulled onto their faces.

_Safe. They're all safe._ She didn't even bother to scold Kasumi for wrapping her up in a hug.

News outlets continued to cover its return, all practically foaming at the mouth over the prospect of interviewing the crew of war-heroes. They were the story of the century after all. The Normandy was the tip of the spear, and her crew was there to witness the alliances made by their leader and take part in the battles on Tuchanka, the Citadel, Rannoch, Thessia and Earth, among other fronts of the war.

Thankfully Diana Allers took the brunt of the press for all of them.

She, of course, wanted to be the first to speak to the hero of the galaxy, but Miranda and Kasumi made it clear that her story would have to wait until Shepard was fully recovered.

"_Shepard needs time away from everything,"_ Miranda stated firmly. This was one point she refused to budge from. _"It's not just the physical injuries she's recovering from, but the mental and emotional exhaustion the war put on her."_

"_I'm sure Shep will have no problem doing her first interview with you,"_ Kasumi jumped in. _"But…Please, Shep's been through so much already. I…We don't want her buried under the weight of the galaxy so soon. She's given us all so much already."_

If they let Shepard give an interview now or anytime soon then she'd have no choice but to jump right back into the frontlines of politics and decision making. The N7 didn't need to be overcome by those stresses right now, not after everything she went through.

As Kasumi said, she gave the galaxy enough. The Council and everyone else needed to learn to stand on their own without relying on Shepard to brace their weight at every stumble.

_Eventually Shepard will retire for a peaceful life, all of us will_, Miranda thought, relaxed by the idea of a peaceful retirement.

In the past she never considered it a possibility. Retirement? For her? What a laughable idea. But the future ahead of her was no longer bound to a fate of running away or that of a blacklisted terrorist organization.

She could pick her own future, one where she could be involved in her sister's life and follow a path that fulfilled her rather than one chosen out of sheer necessity of survival.

Her future was hers to decide. Not her father's, not the Illusive Man's, not the Reapers or the fears of her past catching up with her. She had no plan to fall back on, no real idea of where she could use her skills or what kind of life she wanted to live.

Everything felt so uncertain, chaotic even, but her life was hers to live without fear, without restraints.

Yet another gift Shepard gave her.

Allers didn't argue against their desire to give Shepard time off from the galaxy to recharge. If anything, she understood her need better than Miranda anticipated.

_I suppose not all reporters are snakes or parasites._

The galaxy still had surprises for her, it seemed.

As for the rest of the crew, they did their best to keep Shepard out of the loop. Those working guard shifts never spoke of the news—a far more difficult task than they all imagined. Her jitters and anxiety were palpable. Worse was the hopeful look in her eyes every time one of them entered, thinking perhaps this time it would be one of the crew from the war.

The disappointment and renewed fears hurt more and more each time.

While they all struggled to smother their desire to tell Shepard the truth, the new arrivals kept to the apartment to rest for the first time since their crash. _The shifts they must have pulled to get back in one piece…_

The stress alone probably shaved a few months or years off their lifespans.

But even though the entire team coordinated well, a bystander letting slip any information in Shepard's presence stood as the greatest threat to Kasumi's surprise.

One of Shepard's hidden talents was picking up on the conversations of people around her as she moved. Her ears always remained open to her surroundings—likely a talent she picked up in her N7 training.

A single nurse or doctor being overheard talking about the arrival would have rendered everything pointless. One of the crew speaking about it within visual sight or earshot could have tipped her off to what was going on. Someone listening to one of the news channels as they moved Shepard from her room to the recovery room and back would have spoiled it completely.

And yet, despite how easily it all could have been ruined, it hadn't been. Kasumi worked herself to the point of exhaustion to keep the news from reaching Shepard, and it all paid off.

Shepard couldn't contain her happiness. The tears in her eyes were easy to see even from a distance, as was the beaming smile taking over her features as she reunited with her crew.

Her family, really.

Although the Normandy did indeed crash after escaping the Sol System, everyone on board made it back safely without severe injuries. There were a few signs of injuries; a bandaged arm here, a slight limp from a still healing wound there, but nothing that wouldn't heal fully in time.

Even EDI's new body managed to escape catastrophic damage. Scuffs and scratches did mark it, no doubt due to some of her last combat encounters on the Illusive Man's base, but it could be repaired as soon as everything settled down.

Miranda couldn't ask for anything better than that. The collective worry they had all harbored for their missing comrades made the bear hug Kasumi attacked EDI with understandable.

_We no longer have to bear the burdens of those fears_, thought Miranda as she watched the gathering, a smile on her face.

The entire crew member had made it here today. Those who first joined her to fight Saren, the ragtag team Miranda herself was a part of and those who fought side by side with her during their greatest fight yet were among them. Even Admiral Anderson, Shepard's father figure, had come to the surprise reunion despite still recovering from his own injuries, and in her heart she knew that their fallen comrades were here in spirit as well.

Everything about this was…perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Shepard jumped right into the middle of it all. Witty remarks were fired from all sides by her crew; teases about her stubborn streak of refusing to die and how _obviously_ her dancing was the cause of the Reapers dying.

The redhead laughed and fired back with her own jokes while giving hugs and handshakes, her happiness never once leaving her.

From here it almost seemed as if the war never happened. As if they didn't carry scars from loss or the weighted stresses over whom else they might lose.

Here, together again, memories of the Reaper War were swept away by the waves of joy and camaraderie currently lapping against their shore.

_To think just a few weeks ago we were all worn down by the war._

They had all felt the pressure before the end. They had all known the Crucible was their cycle's best and last shot at surviving the death bringers. After the war ended and the initial burst of relief passed they were all confronted by a Reaper and Relay absent galaxy.

The former was wonderful. The latter led to fears and concerns no one tried to voice, but were always aware of deep down.

Now here they were, almost every single comrade still alive, laughing and smiling as if the nightmares and stresses never existed.

It was truly wonderful.

As the reunion continued, Kaiden Alenko took the role of chef for the night, putting on a biotic show as he worked to keep the kitchen crowd entertained. His control was quite impressive, she had to admit.

In the meantime, Miranda did her best to fight the need to make rounds and check in on everyone as she and Jack had done since the end of the war.

Shepard beat her to the punch. Already she had fallen back into habit, strolling around the apartment to talk to everyone as they sat back and relaxed. Miranda tried to argue how Shepard, too, deserved to rest and enjoy herself, but she didn't get anywhere whatsoever.

"You've been working nonstop since I've been in the hospital. Take time for yourself tonight, Miranda." Shepard smiled. "I haven't been this relaxed in a long time. Trust me."

"Fine," she conceded, seeing both the futility in arguing and the truth to her words.

Shepard appeared to be bursting at the seams with the energy and life. It wouldn't be right to take that away.

So for the rest of the night she did her best to put all work related thoughts and plans aside to enjoy herself like a normal person would. Drinks and conversation was a good start, though she kept a mental note to not drink too much. Jack did wish to talk privately later; she wouldn't ruin that by getting too tipsy.

That was how she ended up lounging on one of the couches in the main room as James Vega recounted the tale of their crash landing. Or, more accurately, she listened to James exaggerate the account of the crash to an amusing extreme.

"So there I was with this pack of Varren surrounding me and no weapons other than these guns." James flexed his muscles and held his pose for a second to accent his point before continuing. "I had to channel a bit of Lola for this one 'cause she's the only one I know that would be loco enough to take these beasts down. Before I could make my move, I was tackled by one. I managed to throw it off then snapped its jaw by pulling its upper and lower away from one another."

Vega began imitating himself killing the first Varren as the group tried not to laugh at his ridiculous story. A human breaking a Varren's jaw in such a fashion? Miranda suppressed her snort. _He'd have lost his hands and then his life._

Sure Vega's muscular physique was impressive, but he'd have better luck besting a Krogan in a head-butting contest. He did seem to have the same hard-head as his Commander. Perhaps that wasn't as far-fetched as it sounded.

Regardless, Miranda wasn't here to poke holes into his absurd tale. The absurdity was the point after all.

"After I finished off the first, another tackled me from behind but it scattered off after I poked it in the eye. I had to thank _Dios_ for looking out for me. You see there was this spear like stick right next to me where the Varren had knocked me down. Coincidence, no?"

Among the gathered group there were snickers and choked laughs at the serious look on his face. He truly appeared to believe he fought off a pack of Varren with his bare hands.

_If I didn't know he enjoyed spinning grandiose tales, I'd suspect he was suffering from a head injury or delusions of grandeur._

"So the one I blinded came charging back, but this time I was ready. I took up my defensive position, and as it lunged I stabbed forward, embedding my spear into its heart. Unfortunately, another Varren from the pack grabbed my spear and snapped it with one bite. Now a normal person would have given up at this point, but James Vega is anything but normal. I had to rescue Scars."

"Wait, how did I get in this story?" Garrus asked with honest confusion.

"You see the Varren had kidnapped Scars because they had thought he was one of them. I had no choice. Lola wouldn't have backed down here and neither could I. I took them all on in hand to hand combat until finally I was the only one standing. Scars fainted at the sight of the pure strength of the one and only James Vega. When he woke up he had no memory of this ever happening."

Miranda initially tried to suppress her laughter but found she couldn't as everyone around her fell into their own fits of laughter. James definitely had a talent for spinning tall-tales, and because of that talent he successfully lightened the atmosphere even more than it was before.

Personally, Miranda couldn't recall the last time she felt so…at ease. There were moments, sure, where everything no longer felt so desperate—the original party here, moments of levity she shared with Jack since the end of the war. But always in the back of her mind were restless thoughts of what came next.

Were the repairs still making progress?

What was the timetable on Shepard's recovery?

Were the species still cooperating or were problems breaking out?

None of those thoughts crossed her mind throughout the night, and from the look of it, it hadn't crossed anyone else's either. Everyone was relaxed, their body language and facial expressions calm and comfortable.

The night pressed on with this atmosphere. After dinner the team spread out around the apartment, smaller groups forming as conversations quieted down steadily.

Eventually Shepard announced her departure for bed while on the hunt for Kasumi, who had noticeably gone missing after dinner.

One by one the members of the Normandy called it a night until inevitably Miranda found her opening to approach Jack when she was alone.

She gently pressed her hand just below her jacket and said, "If you still want to talk, I'll be where we spoke during the last party."

Jack met her eyes for a small second and nodded. Miranda let her hand slowly glide off her back and sauntered away to the back room. On the surface she appeared unbothered and confident, as always, but underneath she could feel her nerves growing.

_The look in her eyes when she asked to talk privately…_

There could only be one subject matter on her mind. She had known the coming conversation was always inescapable. Their closeness was an abnormality after all.

She just had to hope this wasn't the end of something that had barely begun.

* * *

Jack waited a minute before following after Miranda. She wanted to say the cause of her hesitation was for a legitimate and intelligent reason; something like ensuring nobody still awake saw them go into the same room together. But it wasn't wariness of eavesdroppers that caused her to hesitate.

Her nerves were going fucking crazy.

Throughout the reunion she had been fine, too lost in the fun and camaraderie to really pay mind to any thoughts revolving around this moment.

There were times when her eyes were drawn to Miranda, usually when she heard her laughter or caught her smiling widely, in turn making her heart flutter or her lips tug into a smile. However it wasn't until her warm hand graced her back that the nerves awoke.

Every ounce of her willpower was used to appear unaffected by the touch—it wasn't enough, though. The electric tingles left behind by the soft skin gliding off gave her a pleasant shiver she savored every second of.

Immediately after, nervous jitters took over.

This was it. This next conversation would force them to step up and acknowledge the changes in their bond so they could figure out what the hell it all meant… She would have to say what she felt out loud and make those feelings real for both of them.

Her heart thudded faster than an Afterlife club beat the closer she got to the room. Unconsciously she began to wring her hands, biting at the inner part of her cheek as she fought hard against the need to turn around and walk away as fast as possible.

Could she actually say what she felt out loud? It had taken her forever just to admit it within the safety of her own mind, but to voice it out loud? To say that she cared and enjoyed their new closeness…

_I want…I need to know what this all means_. Because she…she cared about Miranda, a lot more than she thought possible. And their closeness was fulfilling, to the point she started looking forward to seeing Miranda for more than their entertaining banter.

What few scraps of her past self that remained was fucking beside herself with disbelief. Yet…it didn't hold as much sway on her decision making as it used to—obviously.

If it had, she wouldn't have even considered this talk or these feelings.

Her nerves only increased further when she considered what Miranda might feel. Did she only want to get laid or did she feel more for Jack? Those two possibilities weren't entirely bad, though one was more desired than the other. But there was a third possibility, one that was the source of her nerves.

_Does she even have the same feelings I do?_

Jack stopped just outside of the door, out of sight as her anxieties started to get the best of her. The embarrassment she would experience if Miranda didn't feel a shred of what she felt, it made walking away seem like a better idea.

If she was wrong, things would get awkward between them. It'd be like being the sole Hanar at a Krogan fish feast.

She rested a hand against the wall. _Come on. You're the idiot that asked for this conversation in the first place. Don't be such a coward!_

Jack's hand curled into a fist as she took a deep breath. She could handle whatever came of this. Whether they shared the same feelings, wanted to get laid or just wanted to remain friends didn't matter. She just wanted to define whatever was going on between them so she could have some peace of mind.

_Just go in there and get this over with so everyone can move the fuck on._ Steeling herself with one last breath, Jack let her hand fall from the wall and walked into the room.

The back room remained unchanged from their last time here; the mini-bar where they complimented each other, and Jack embarrassed herself, still stood untouched. _Hopefully I don't make a bigger ass out of myself this time._

Still, embarrassing as that was, this room was a good pick for their talk. It was as comfortable as it was quiet, and it served as the setting for the beginnings of their friendship.

Deeper in the room was Miranda. She stood behind the poker table, her body facing Jack but her eyes drawn to the cards on the table. Blue eyes glanced up at the sight of movement and met brown; a smile formed on her lips before her eyes returned back to the cards on the table.

"You know, despite all the successful gambles I've made in life, I've no knack for games involving even the slightest bit of gambling."

Jack stopped and cast a quizzical look at Miranda. That wasn't how she expected their conversation to start, but fuck it. Small talk would give her time to build up some courage first and maybe even settle her nerves a little.

"Have you ever even played other games besides cards?"

"Yes. Before the end of the war I asked Shepard to join me at the Silver Coast Casino so we could do something normal for a change."

The raven-haired woman started to saunter around the table, her fingertips gliding across the table as an amused smile pulled onto her lips. "Admittedly, despite my intentions, I was incredibly stiff. I've never really done anything outside of work, and because of that I felt there needed to be structure and a plan for there to be fun."

Jack couldn't help but smirk and shake her head at Miranda. "Not everything requires a plan, Cheerleader," she teased.

A sheepish smile formed on her lips. "Well, it's not as if anyone ever accused me of being the life of the party. I'm still trying to figure it out what normal is like, embarrassingly enough. But…" She chuckled softly. "Well, with Shepard's help and _a lot_ of wine I did loosen up enough to lose several credits, and in the end I realized both my ineptitude at games and how fun acting without a plan was."

Sounded like a fun time. Not nearly as fun as blowing holographic Cerberus goons up in the Armax Arsenal Combat Simulator, but everyone had their own tastes. The important part was they had a good time and created a fond memory to look back on.

In time they would all create more.

"Freeing, wasn't it? Being normal, I mean."

"Absolutely," Miranda nodded. "I've lived most of my life trying to live up to impossible standards, all in an effort to fit someone else's image of who I should be." She stopped at the front of the table and leaned back against it, her eyes meeting Jack's as she continued to speak. "Shepard's influence gave me the foundation I needed to start…confronting my insecurities so I could find myself."

Jack nodded absently as she crossed the room towards Miranda. Shepard had been a similar influence on her.

With her almost nauseating level of kindness, and a stubbornness that outmatched her own, Shepard helped the tattooed woman to confront and move on from the darkness she carried with her since the Teltin Facility. Her friendship provided Jack the foundation necessary to believe in herself and in a better life.

_I guess that's something else we have in common._

"The Girl Scout definitely made you less of an icy bitch," she said as she leaned against the table, almost shoulder to shoulder with Miranda.

Miranda snorted and turned to look at her with an amused smile. "Remind me again which one of us said she had a sensitive heart today?"

Jack frowned. That was just playing dirty.

Before she could come up with a retort, Miranda's shoulder gently pushed hers, the action and the soft expression on her face robbing Jack of her frown and comeback. "Shepard helped both of us lower our walls and open up."

"True," she nodded.

Silence came over them as their small talk hit its end. Their eyes drifted away to look just about anywhere else as they both became acutely aware of the tension lingering between them. The nerves Jack had tried to ignore returned in full force, leaving her to hug her arms around her stomach to keep her hands stationary and the jitters hidden.

Why did this have to be so fucking difficult to do? It's not like Miranda was a Harvester blasting the shit out of her barriers.

She was a comrade, a friend. And they were both adults. They weren't horny teenagers wondering what sex with a Hanar might be like. They could talk through this and get this whole awkward silence done and over with if she just asked her damn question.

So why the hell couldn't she speak? Why was it so hard to ask the question on her mind? _Because you don't want to get hurt_, her heart whispered to her.

Jack squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled deeply through her nose. Yeah…there was that.

_I need to ask now. If I don't, I'll go fucking insane._ She just wanted to know where they stood and what Miranda wanted. Everything about their bond was new and strange and so foreign to them both. It left her with questions she couldn't answer and feelings she was struggling to restrain for the safety of her heart.

"Miranda…" Jack trailed off. What was she even going to say? Was there any easy way to phrase it that wouldn't come off weird or lead to her eventual embarrassment?

"Take your time. There's no rush," Miranda soothed.

She responded with a silent and grateful nod. Even though the war was over, she still hadn't gotten out of the mindset of always pushing ahead as fast as possible. It likely wouldn't change until the galaxy was more stable, but she appreciated the gesture and her patience.

After some contemplation, Jack finally decided on the blunt approach. "What the hell is going on between us?" Her voice was soft and lacked her usual confidence.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Jack cut herself off in a struggle to find the right words to say. She had thought her initial statement was pretty straightforward, but she supposed it could be considered vague without context to her thoughts. "We've…We've gotten closer since the end of the war. A lot closer."

"We have," Miranda agreed, nodding once. "Is that a problem?" There was a hint of hesitation in her voice, bordering on concern of what the answer might be.

"No," Jack answered quickly. "I like how close we've become."

Internally she grimaced. Fuck, didn't that sound like some sort of cheesy shit Kasumi or Shepard would say.

Miranda features became relieved at her answer, and then she smiled warmly at her. "As do I."

Her words and smile coaxed the tiniest of smiles out of Jack, and the warmth she was becoming more familiar with bloomed again within her.

"It's just…" She paused and looked away. _Stop dancing around it already._ "I care about you, all right? Took me a while to admit that, but it's the truth, and I don't want to fuck it up by making wild assumptions." A deep sigh escaped her. "Can you just…tell me what you feel? About me? Like is this just a normal friendship for you or do you want more from me?"

There. She laid her cards out on the table and now it was Miranda's turn to do the same. Maybe now she could get some answers.

"I'm not using your emotions for sex if that's what you're concerned about."

It was. She wouldn't have been against things working towards sex, but if the Cheerleader had been toying with her emotions to do so, well, out of respect for Shepard she wouldn't mutilate Miranda. But she'd get in one good punch before walking away.

"Good," she said.

"What do you want this to be, Jack? Are you wanting this to remain a friendship, or do you want more?"

"What the hell do you think? You think I'd put myself in this awkward situation just to say, 'hey Cheerleader, let's be best friends forever' or something?" she retorted a bit heatedly.

She let her hands fall back to her sides as her features fought between frustration and vulnerability. "I don't get how it happened or where this came from, but this is real, Miranda. If you don't feel more, that's fine. I get how fucking weird this is. I just…I need to know what you feel so neither of us get hurt."

These feelings were still in their infancy and could easily be plucked at the roots without any real damage. All she needed was a straight answer on whether or not she should risk letting them grow or pluck them right now.

Fingertips brushed against the top of her hand, drawing her attention first down to see Miranda's hand moving to rest on top of hers, and then to the woman herself.

Icy blue eyes remained on their hands, unguarded and in the same strange place of vulnerability Jack found herself in.

"I don't know what's going on between us, Jack. I really don't." The tips of Miranda's fingers gently traced along her tattoos, tickling every sensory nerve in her way. "But I think I feel the same way you do. Confused but comfortable. Uncertain yet hopeful of what could be." She shook her head. "And it might not be as weird as you think. We've trusted each other a long time, whether we admitted it or not. During the Suicide Mission we watched after each other. We fought to protect one another and synched up incredibly well."

She…hadn't thought about it that way. Although it felt like they had only known each other for a few weeks—and in some aspects that was true—they had been watching each other's backs for far longer. They might not have liked one another, but they did _trust_ each other.

And Miranda was right about how she felt. She was so confused, and yet right now she felt extremely comfortable sitting here as Miranda traced designs on her hand. She didn't know what the hell was going on between them, but she was still hopeful on what it could become.

"I don't have much experience with these kinds of emotions. And I don't think this is something we can define with words or solve in one conversation." Miranda's hand flattened on top of hers and held it gently. She lifted her eyes from their hands and met Jack's. "But if you're willing, I'd like to spend more time with you so we can see what comes of it."

Nervous as all hell, Jack slowly turned her hand under Miranda's and intertwined their fingers. She offered a timid smile. "I'd…like that. So long as you don't start planning every hour of the day or come up with some stupid rule book, you might be fun."

Miranda chuckled softly and gave her hand a squeeze. "Oh shut it, you ass."

Jack couldn't help but grin as she held onto the anchor of warmth.

Today was a good day.


	12. Chapter 12: A Brighter Future

Chapter 12

A Brighter Future

Gallick wasn't surprised when he found out the Silver Coast Casino had opened for all patrons. He was even less surprised to find it nearly as full as the Purgatory Bar.

At the end of the day, good alcohol and gambling attracted post-war survivors like scantily dressed Asari's promising a good time. Few could resist the temptation to sit back, waste some creds and forget about their problems for a little bit.

Though he couldn't deny there was something wholly strange about this place. The more he watched the occupants of the casino, the more he realized how restrained this environment was by N7 Talon standards.

_Hasn't been a single bar fight since we've been here._ The Batarian tilted his head in curiosity as he cast his three eyes across the upper floor. _Is this what these people consider fun?_

People crowded the dance floor across from the bar he was sitting at, flailing about without second thought to how ridiculous they might look—and some looked like Hanars trying to hump a squirming Salarian.

Down below he recalled seeing groups gathered together around booths and unoccupied machines as they discussed…whatever they wished to discuss. He wasn't one to eavesdrop. Then there were those playing the games whilst drinking.

Yet there were no brawls. No heart pulsing club beats making it hard to hear someone two inches away. Not even the slightest hint of aggression from anyone. It was…kind of dull, really.

Gallick was truly happy and grateful for the end of the Reaper War. He couldn't help but look forward to a galaxy at peace. It'd be a nice change of pace, probably. But this place just felt downright unnatural. Casinos and clubs weren't supposed to be so calm. They were meant to be lively, full of loud music and danger, where letting your attention span drift for even a second meant finding a serrated Turian blade in your gut.

That kind of tension guaranteed a good time.

Instead he was left waiting in anticipation for an attack his instincts knew would never come. People _seemed_ to be having fun, but were they really? Or were they just filling time because they were bored?

He couldn't tell, and it left him mildly confused and in need to find the drunkest person in the casino so he could instigate them into a fight. That'd liven the place up quite nicely.

Gallick shrugged off the feeling and leaned his back against the bar counter behind him.

_Can't expect the Citadel to understand a good time._

They'd always been the polar opposite to Omega. Still the same backstabbing and power plays in both hubs; the only real difference was on Omega you were more likely to get stabbed in the face in public instead of the in the back in some forgotten alleyway.

Just watching how restrained these people were made him feel stiff. He considered showing them how to loosen up and have a good time, starting off with a hard drink followed by a hard haymaker, but the guaranteed promise of jail kept him from teaching the stiff suits the Batarian version of a tango.

Citadel jails were luxury hotels in comparison to Batarian prisons, no doubt about that. He could lounge in a Citadel jail cell; probably even find some decent cigarettes if you made the right connections. Batarian prisons didn't offer anyone luxury.

Still, Gallick had no desire to waste his time sitting around with his thumb up his ass because he was itching for a fight.

Mostly, though, he didn't want to taint the respect Ghost earned their team.

Shifting his gaze down to his chest, he couldn't help but look at the new weight around his neck in bewildered amusement. The silver badge engraved with the famous _N7_ symbol stared back at him; the reflection of the ceiling light made the metal shine like the stars of the galaxy.

The N7 Talons. The first ever cross-species Alliance N7 team. A group of former mercenaries turned war-heroes, shunned by their own societies for their abnormalities or their personal decisions to stick to their morals, now living legends. Heroes who would be written in the history books of the surviving species' and live on in the memories of those they saved.

Gallick couldn't be prouder to call himself a member of this team.

Every single one of them had fought with every ounce of their wills to make a better life for themselves. They could have given up and accepted being nothing more than cannon fodder for mercenaries. They could have folded and given themselves up to their military's when they left them behind to take a moral stand for what was right.

They didn't give in. It wasn't their style.

Together they kept fighting for their future and the family they gained in the N7 Talons, and their fight had paid off.

Now they were well-respected heroes who provided hope to those wherever they went. It'd be a wonderful heroic ending under normal circumstances, but the old Batarian knew their work was far from over.

Couldn't retire yet when the galaxy still needed heroes to look to. That being said, there was something he was looking forward to…

"One Asari honey mead for Tara."

"Thank you, Kiara," Tara thanked from beside him.

Gallick half turned in his seat to see their brown-haired friend and bartender set his glass of green alcohol down, a pleasant smile on her face. "Genuine, uncut Batarian ale for Gallick."

_There it is._ He dipped his head in a nod. "Thank you."

He was only seconds away from having his first taste of post-war uncut Batarian ale. Not that rancid swill they dared to claim was anything close to his species' perfect drink. Real, beautiful, uncut Batarian ale.

"And finally, one Quad Kicker for my favorite Krogan in all the Milky Way."

"Aw," Kar chuckled as he took his cocktail, "you're too sweet to me, Kiara."

"Don't let it make your head any bigger, Kar. We don't have the materials to widen the doors any further for you on The Setting Sun," Darian jested lightly.

Gallick chuckled lightly to himself as Kar's entire mass shook with roaring laughter.

To be fair, Darian wasn't wrong. Kar was massive even by Krogan standards. Arms thick as thresher maws and body mass big enough to make full-grown average Krogan look like an adolescent.

Greatest of his features was his giant faded blue headplate, adorned with scars that told the story of several dangerous battles he took part in long before they met him.

In his words, _"I was fighting before any of you were even a twinkle in your father's quads."_

_Talk about humbling_, Gallick hummed in amusement. _Still, age hasn't slowed him down one bit, that's for sure._

The Batarian appreciated that most about him. Well, that and their shared dark sense of humor.

All four members of the N7 Talons were dressed to kill, as humans liked to say. The saying didn't make sense to Gallick; being dressed to kill meant armor and guns, not expensive suits. But who was he to judge.

Darian and Kar wore expensive black suits they had procured on a past mission years ago. From what Gallick had seen, a few human and Turian females were enamored by the Turian second-in-command's smooth appearance.

Darian, as always, was completely oblivious to their attempts to catch his eyes, far too busy scouting the guard patrols and the layout of the casino for their mission.

_Sorry ladies_, Gallick apologized internally to them, _but you may need a flashing neon sign to get his attention. Or a gun._

At this rate they'd need to find someone who lived just as dangerously as they did to catch Darian's attention. A woman who was just as sharp with her tongue as she was with a gun. Probably someone who tried to kill him at least once. No, she'd need to try to kill him twice.

Once was business. Twice was romance.

Gallick stifled a snort. _I think Brad's forced me to watch too many of his spy vids._

Out of the entire group, Tara held the greatest number of admirers. Besides being beautiful by all species standards, she wore an elegant shimmering silver Asari dress that attracted everyone's attention—some of them were even single.

The low back design of the dress left her red back tattoo was on display for all to see, but in reality there was only one she desired to snatch the attention of.

_I wonder if Ghost will even be able to focus on the job_, Gallick thought, a humored smirk pulling onto his lips._ I suppose a better question would be if Tara is intentionally trying to distract him. It's either that or she's trying to entice him to make love here in the casino._

Gallick wouldn't ask. No sense giving the two lovers any ideas to scar the innocent bystanders.

As for his outfit, he decided on a tuxedo he wore for one of their last undercover operations before they even knew what Reapers were.

Simpler times.

Just like him, his comrades wore their N7 tags out in the open.

Hackett's reasons for making them official N7s was clear cut; this was an olive branch towards a better galaxy where cooperation between species became a new normal.

For the N7 Talons these tags were a physical symbol of how far they had come.

Gallick took a drink of his ale and savored the taste. Ah, now _this_ was uncut Batarian ale. Now he just had to wait for trouble to be stirred and it'd be just like old times.

_Soon_, he reminded himself. The four of them hadn't gotten dressed up to come to the casino without cause. They were here for an operation—a heist to be exact.

"Are you sure you don't want anything to drink, Darian?" Kiara asked.

"I'm fine, Kiara, but thank you. Somebody here has to be responsible in Ghost's absence."

Kiara snorted and leaned forward on the bar counter, mirth dancing in her eyes. "Are you sure we're talking about the same Ghost? Because I seem to remember from my tenure in Chora's Den a young man and a certain Krogan starting a bar fight with the entire bar. And I also remember the two of them being taken out in omni-cuffs by C-Sec after taking down all the patrons who joined the fight."

Gallick chuckled. That day had been an interesting one, to say the least. He and Darian had been deep in their game of cards when Ghost called to explain their impending arrest, all the while fighting off drunken patrons as Kar's excited drunken shouts echoed in the background.

_Feels like it's been decades since then, but it's only been a few years._

War never ceased to make him feel older than he was.

The reminder of the incident brought a bark of laughter out of Kar. "Ha! Those Pyjaks didn't stand a chance against us!"

"Ah, what is that human saying? Touché?" Darian asked.

"That's the one," she answered, smiling widely.

Tara covered her mouth in a futile effort to hide her laughter. "Goddess, you were so drunk, Kar! I don't know what kind of drinks they fed you, but the after effect was unforgettable."

"You could say that again," Gallick agreed, laughing lightly. He turned a smirk to Kar. "Had any issues with thresher maws trying to eat you lately?"

The entire group broke out into hysterical laughter at the jab, even Kar.

None of them would ever forget the sight of a Krogan lying flat on the ground, grasping onto a pillar for dear life as he yelled incoherently about a thresher maw pulling him away.

Best part about it, they had video proof.

"And that's why I stick to the light stuff now," Kar finally said, lifting his Quad Kicker up to accent his point.

"Light by your standards," Kiara corrected.

"Exactly."

Gallick relaxed further as he took another drink of his ale. Much as he might have enjoyed a good bar fight right about now, he couldn't deny he was warming up to the peaceful surroundings. It had been a while since he last sat around doing absolutely nothing with a good drink in hand. Decades, if he were to think about it.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on your perspective—where the N7 Talons went, trouble usually wasn't far behind.

"Darian." The sound of Ghost's tense voice made all four members turn to their arriving leader. He wore a hooded tuxedo, N7 tags and a serious face Gallick instantly noticed meant things were about to pick up.

_Hmph, about time._

"What's going on, Ghost?" Darian queried.

"Minor hiccup requiring us to change our plans."

To any outsider that wouldn't sound so bad. A hiccup was just a tiny issue easily resolved. A minor bump in the road.

To the N7 Talons, however, his mention of a "minor hiccup" made them all straighten to attention. A hiccup to Ghost could be anything from an incoming ambush to an asteroid about to collide into the Citadel.

Needless to say, Ghost was the official master of understating danger.

"I need you to head down and meet our guests. Bring them here when they arrive. I'll fill you in as soon as you get back."

Darian gave a sharp nod and stood to leave without hesitation. "You got it."

Before he could leave, Ghost placed a hand on his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Keep an eye out for any suspicious humans. Our prestigious guest will definitely catch their attention, if you get my meaning."

"Loud and clear, Ghost."

With that, Ghost let Darian take his leave. That left the three remaining N7 Talon members at full attention, their drinks forgotten for the time being as they prepared for their new orders.

"A new mission, Love?" Tara asked.

He nodded and moved closer to the group, likely out of caution of eavesdroppers. "Just talked to the Old Man," he told the group, his voice low and sharp purple eyes unwavering in determination. "We've got confirmed Cerberus presence here in the casino. After the last owner met his untimely end, they strolled in and turned it into a front to gain funds, from what I was told."

All three members shifted back to their wartime hardened features at the news.

_Cerberus, huh?_

One of the greatest enemies to peace between all species was here on the Citadel, right under their noses.

"Hm. Clever bastards, I'll give them that," Gallick said thoughtfully.

"What of Kasumi's heist and date?" Tara asked.

"We'll see if they want to join our hunt. Otherwise I'll let them head home." He shook his head. "They didn't ask to be thrown into an operation, and I don't want any of the racist trash sneaking out of here."

On that they all agreed.

Ghost raised his eyes to Kiara. "Any chance C-Sec has information we can use? The Old Man didn't have much other than confirmed presence."

Kiara was an old friend and a bartender, but she was also an insider for C-Sec, sent to monitor the casino for suspicious activity from what Gallick remembered. He assumed nothing came of it, but her nod proved otherwise.

"Yes. I would have mentioned it earlier, but I was under the impression you were all here to relax."

"No big deal. This is all really fortuitous if you ask me. We get to reunite with a few old friends, share some drinks and even meet the hero of the galaxy." Ghost let his lips curl into a smirk. "I even got to be a moment killer by interrupting a heated kiss between Kasumi and Commander Shepard. Now I get to hunt Cerberus? It's like my birthday."

Tara slapped his arm playfully. "Love, don't obstruct them embracing their feelings for one another," she scolded.

"No way!" Ghost retorted, purple eyes flashing with humor. "Do you know how _long_ I've waited to have this chance after all the interruptions we've experienced because of our friends?" He crossed his arms and raised his chin in defiance. "Shepard and Kasumi are just innocent casualties to my vengeance and sense of humor."

Tara mocked a huff of indignation and turned away to pout. "Will you be too distracted by vengeance to stay with me, Love?"

Ghost smiled at her back and wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her gently into his chest. "I would never be too distracted for you." He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "You, my love, are a walking goddess." He kissed her neck. "And your smile shines brighter than every sun in the universe." He kissed her cheek, smiling into it as Tara grinned. "And my heart will forever belong to you."

"As will mine, Love." She craned her head to look back up at him and brought a hand to his cheek. "I love you."

"And I love you."

Gallick waited patiently for them to kiss before speaking up. "Ugh, get a room you two," he grumbled. "Your sweetness makes me want to puke."

Kar chuckled and jabbed him in the arm lightly. "Come on, Gallick. Doesn't their sweetness make you want to cave in heads?"

"I think you mean doesn't their sweetness give you cavities," Kiara offered.

"Huh? Is that the human saying?" Kar sighed deeply in apparent disappointment. "And here I thought your species understood what romance was."

Gallick hummed amusedly and downed the rest of his ale.

Tara and Ghost's open affection for one another didn't actually bother him; he just enjoyed giving the pair a hard time. Truly he was happy for them.

Of course he missed his wife with all his being, but he would never ask anyone to restrain themselves on his behalf.

Life was precious. War, betrayal and the Reaper War taught him the truth of that lesson. No second was guaranteed in life. There was no guarantee the people you loved would wake with you tomorrow or see the end of the day with you.

To let moments slide or stubbornness get in the way of speaking to the people you cared about was a mistake far too many people had made before the Reaper War. He had made the same mistake during his first war, and because of that he would forever carry a heavy burden of grief.

These two needed to keep living in the moment with each other, never forgoing their chance to share their affection so they did not regret a single second of their time together. Gallick, for one, planned to make up every missed minute he had with his wife as soon as they reunited.

But for now…

"Kiara, you wouldn't happen to have more, would you?" he asked, motioning to his glass.

She smiled at him. "Do the Hanar enjoy the ocean?"

"I suppose they do." Gallick tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

What did the Hanar's enjoyment of oceans have to do with his need for a drink?

Kiara giggled and waved him off. "Forget it. It's a human thing. One more uncut Batarian ale coming right up."

_Such a strange species._

Kiara refilled his drink and placed the bottle back behind the bar. Gallick made a mental note of where it was located just in case she had to leave. Nobody wanted to let good ale go to waste. Such a tragedy would be a grievous sin to all the deities of the galactic community.

"Well for a while we were watching after you and your squad," Darian's voice made the four N7's turn to see their friend approaching. "He knew your team could protect you but he wanted to make sure you all were safe."

The Turian walked casually ahead of two human women; Gallick recognized both immediately, albeit for different reasons.

Kasumi Goto was an old friend of Ghost's, and by extension his team. In years past they offered their help on a few big heists she had planned, all of which were successful endeavors.

Kasumi, like Ghost, concealed her features behind the shadow of a hood. Unlike his last memory of her, though, she wasn't wearing full body armor. Replacing that was a purple hooded tank top and black pants that seemed to be similar to her armor, minus the extra padding.

Far more interesting were the N7 tags around her neck, undoubtedly belonging to the woman she was holding hands with.

_Commander Shepard, hero of the galaxy in the flesh._

Gallick's three eyes analyzed her appearance. He couldn't repress his amused snort. Since when had the hero of the galaxy wore a dress? It wasn't a bad look, he supposed, just strange since he had only ever seen clips of her in full body armor or in Alliance uniforms.

The dress was an iridescent black mixed with blue. Two red stripes lined from her hips down to the hem, which fell close to knee length. An N7 badge was printed on the right shoulder strap and three chained silver necklaces hung around her neck.

Other than that, the woman was exactly as the vids showed: sky blue eyes, red hair, soft features that betrayed the battle-hardened woman she really was.

Overall, Gallick was mostly impressed she was walking so soon after everything he knew of her condition. One of Hackett's first directives to the new team of N7s was to guard Shepard from the shadows. And so they had. None of the Normandy team members seemed to have had the slightest idea they were even there, but then, that was the point.

When Ghost informed him Kasumi asked for help on a heist _and_ it was meant to be a date with Commander Shepard, he immediately volunteered.

Carson, the good friend he was, tried to talk the stubborn Batarian out of it. He reminded him of other incidents where he suffered through the torture of being around Tara and Ghost as they flirted on missions, but he didn't let his friend dissuade him.

The heist and even the date were background noise for him. He was here to see the hero of the galaxy in person. The human responsible for the peace they were now living in. She was the reason hope existed in the war; she was the woman who unified a galaxy in their darkest hour, just as he tried to do with his own people so long ago.

When the war ended, he assumed Shepard had died to pull it off. Gallick had been so certain of it and allowed himself to mourn the loss of the true hero.

Very rarely he enjoyed being wrong. Shepard's survival was one of those times.

What he wanted now was to see her walking around, laughing, smiling and savoring every bit of happiness she could find with this second chance.

Soldiers like them rarely found peace without death. If Shepard could achieve it after everything she sacrificed, then maybe the future would be brighter than he anticipated.

"From who?" Kasumi asked Darian.

"Who indeed," Ghost answered in his stead. Shepard and Kasumi's eyes flitted over to their gathered group, but Ghost's attention immediately moved to the Turian. "Darian, you see anything strange on the way in?"

"A few humans who looked rather suspicious, but they might have been cheating."

Their purple eyed leader brought his hand to his chin as a thoughtful but troubled look crossed his features.

_Must be even sneakier than usual if Darian didn't notice them in the crowds._

Seemed they weren't dealing with dumb grunts this time. Maybe that meant they'd be able to pull the roots of this faction out before they could gain any real hold.

Despite the shadow, Gallick could see the confusion on Kasumi's face. "What's going on Ghost?"

Ghost let his hand fall from his chin as he spared the thief a smile. "We'll get to that shortly. Commander Shepard, nice to finally meet the woman who saved all our asses." Ghost extended his hand forward for a handshake. "Name's Ghost."

Shepard shook his hand then took her place back next to Kasumi. Ghost made a large sweeping motion to encompass his team. "These are my male, and mono-gendered, compatriots."

Tara smiled and slapped his arm. "Asshole."

Kasumi and Shepard, while amused, seemed lost at the interaction. Gallick could have helped but decided explaining a decade long joke about Tara correcting Ghost _once_ on Asari gender and his refusal to let it go wasn't worth the effort.

"You've met my second-in-command Darian so I'll skip over him and introduce you to the others. This," he pointed to their Krogan, "is Kar. He's our big cuddle teddy bear."

Gallick nearly choked on his ale at the introduction. That cheeky bastard.

Kar barked a laugh and slugged his leader in the arm.

"If you need something shot or destroyed beyond all recognition, he's your man."

_Or a good partner in a bar fight_, Gallick added silently.

"That's Gallick over there. He may seem rough, but he's a good guy and tough bastard. He's our heavy weapons specialist and all around brawler. You want a good bar fight, he'd be your man to follow." Gallick raised his glass in greeting. "And this lovely eye candy is Tara," Ghost said as he hooked his arm in hers. "Best engineer I know and one hell of a powerful biotic. The other five of my crew are back on The Setting Sun doing repairs. We're the N7 Talons."

_They might be meeting them, too, if these Cerberus bastards are too slippery._

"Talons? Like the merc group?" Shepard questioned.

Ghost sighed, his upbeat attitude deflating slightly. Gallick felt the others do the same as he himself exhaled deeply out his nose. "I knew Nyreen. Tough woman, but a damn good fighter and friend. I guess you can say that's where I borrowed the name from, an 'in memory' kind of thing."

Nyreen Kandros. Another friend and comrade they lost. Honorable, passionate in her views, intelligent and a fighter to the end. They all had mourned her loss during the war, but they didn't let her death stop them from fighting. She'd kick their asses if they gave up.

"Now that the introductions are out of the way, we've got a date to help with and a mission from the Old Man to pull off at the same time."

_Ah_, Gallick nodded to himself, _so we're going to bust some heads while we help their date._ He could work with that.

"What mission did Hackett give you?" Shepard asked.

Ghost's face turned serious. "We have Intel that says a few Cerberus officers in hiding are here tonight. Turns out the owner is one of them as well. The Old Man wants us to bring them in."

Well, that was news. But Ghost likely hadn't told them so he wouldn't have to repeat himself.

"He doesn't know you're here, so if you two don't want in just say the word."

Gallick watched Shepard carefully as she took in the news. Something flashed in her sky blue eyes, something dangerous. A smile began to take form a second later.

"Shep, what do you want to do? I'm all for helping if you are."

Shepard's smile turned predatory. "Let's go hunting."

All five members of the N7 Talons smiled in response.

_I like her more already._

* * *

Several Minutes Later

* * *

Ghost's plan to capture the Cerberus agents was simple in theory but complex in execution. It'd be no use roaming around aimlessly looking for suspicious humans, and with the crowd at the casino it'd be even more difficult to spot the terrorists.

Despite his personal feelings against them, Gallick knew these people weren't utter fools. Their targets would be doing everything in their power to remain hidden in plain sight while simultaneously watching their shadows for an amateur tailing them.

Another issue was their current team setup. The Turian, human and Asari among them could blend in with ease; their species were more prominent at the casino tonight.

Kar couldn't hide among the crowds even if he wanted to. He was just too damn big. But thanks to the few Krogan here tonight, whether as bodyguards or for leisure, he'd be a little less suspicious than normal.

Gallick, unfortunately, stuck out like a Varren fang through a Salarian liver. No amount of blending in was going to stop people from noticing the sole Batarian in the casino, especially Cerberus. Their xenophobia was bad normally, but for Batarian's the hatred delved further into the depths of darkness.

The atrocities Batarian and human extremists had committed against each other in foolish attempts of vengeance, fear tactics or general bloodlust only furthered the divide between his people and their human counterparts.

War with the Reapers bridged that divide, for the most part. Time would tell if his people would allow the oppressive Hegemony to retake control of their lives or if they would choose a better path for themselves.

_I hope they don't squander their chance to throw off the shackles of the Hegemony and move forward with the rest of the Galaxy._

Gallick let the thought go out the airlock. That wasn't his fight anymore. He had a new goal to follow, a new purpose in life.

So his lookout spot would have to remain at the bar with Kiara, not that he minded. She would feed the others information while feeding him more drinks. There was nothing that could be done about it. He would do his duty and drink enough for all of them.

Anyway, while he was doing his sacred duty of drinking, the others would blend in among the crowds without looking around for the Cerberus agents. These Cerberus agents were likely higher-ranking officers. The probability of them noticing a team or an individual searching for someone was too high to risk it, definitely with the notoriety the N7 Talons gained in the war.

The duty of searching for Cerberus was left to Shepard, who honestly had the perfect cover and disguise. Nobody had ever seen her in a dress before, which made it all the more unlikely anyone would notice.

Add in her very real date with Kasumi and the possibility of a Cerberus agent noticing her different eye color due to the contact lenses Ghost equipped her with was incredibly low.

The contact lenses were programmed to scan the faces of the individuals she looked at. With their faces scanned, the program would then seek out all information about their identity down to their darkest of secrets.

An example was one human Shepard came across with an Elcor mistress, according to Ghost.

Gallick downed an entire glass of ale to wipe that image from his head.

When Shepard would find a real target, one of the N7 Talons would move in to covertly mark them with a tracer; a precaution so any early departure wouldn't give them a chance to escape unnoticed.

Even if a target did leave early, they would find no welcoming committee outside. As Gallick expected, all hands were on deck. Valera, Carson, Brad, Whitney and Grissom were all blending in outside, waiting for the order to either storm the casino for their grab and drag operation, or surprise attack a departing Cerberus operative.

Either way, these Cerberus agents were about to have their day ruined.

As they waited for Shepard to find a target, the N7 Talons inside the casino were placing hacking programs on different machines. No sense letting any more funds go to waste on terrorist plans when they could be going to charities or the relief effort.

Thus far the operation proceeded as smoothly as could be expected. Ghost and Tara were flirting over the comm, in turn making Gallick lean into the banter by pretending to be disgusted. At the same time, Ghost was living up to his promise of vengeance on the two innocent lovers.

Gallick lost track of how many times he interrupted the pair as they kissed or were about to confess their love to one another. Poor girls. They didn't have a clue of what they signed up for when Kasumi asked for them to help.

Admittedly, Ghost's odd sense of humor was entertaining.

Even though he interrupted them consistently, Gallick could still hear the love Shepard and Kasumi held for one another over the comm and how much fun they were having.

The fun nearly stopped when the human reporter Al-Jilani showed up with the intent to shove a camera in Shepard's face. Luckily Ghost headed her off and promised an interview with their crew.

_I'll let Tara, Darian and Ghost handle that_, he thought as he downed the rest of his most recent glass of ale. _I can't stand reporters._ Besides, he didn't need to see anything else here. If anyone wanted an image of what true tranquility looked like, all they had to do was look at Shepard and Kasumi when they were together.

_I'm satisfied._ As soon as he captured his specific target, he'd regroup with Carson and prepare to crack some more heads.

"Shepard, head up to the dance floor. That's where you'll be able to find the last guy. Gallick will mark him," Ghost came over the shared comm. "Kar, Brad, wait in the restroom for me. I think this guard needs to go have a look at a red sand addict."

Brad, one of their resident hotheads, laughed evilly. "Can't wait, Boss."

Gallick waited patiently for Kasumi and Shepard to arrive, his attention drawn mostly to his empty glass. A frown creased his lips as Kiara dealt with a demanding and rude human customer next to him. _Self-important jackass._

"Gallick," Carson came into his private comm, "the guy next to you just pinged as Cerberus."

"Well, that's convenient," Gallick commented, pleased by the information.

"Right next to you?" Shepard's voice followed.

"Yeah," he answered.

Well, it seemed it was officially time for him to go. Glancing over, he saw the customer gesturing rudely to Kiara, bringing a snarl to his lips. He stood up slowly and reached over the counter to grab the bottle of Batarian ale.

_This is for all the pain your people caused._

He gripped the bottle around the neck and, as he retracted back, slammed the bottle right into the face of the Cerberus agent. The glass shattered on impact, the force of the blow sending the scum flying off his seat and onto his ass.

On one hand it seemed a terrible waste of good alcohol, yet Gallick couldn't help but feel it was somewhat poetic. A Batarian drink taking down a Cerberus agent; he could almost feel his fallen comrades and ancestors beaming with pride, and laughing their asses off.

Gallick sat back down with all the leisure of a normal bar patron and opened his omni-tool. The Cerberus agent regained his bearings, surprisingly not blinded by the alcohol, glass or the blood pouring from his face.

_Huh, tougher than I expected._

"What the fuck you four eyed bastard!" the agent shouted.

_Three eyed_, he wanted to correct. Wasn't his scar clear enough to show he only had three working eyes left?

Outwardly he aimed his omni-tool at him and waved Kiara over with his free hand.

"Can I get one last drink, Kia?" Before the Cerberus agent could react, a submission net shot from Gallick's omni-tool, ensnaring him within and shocking him into a paralytic state.

Kiara offered him an appreciative smile as she grabbed a fresh bottle of Batarian ale. "Kia now, hmm?" the brown-haired woman asked teasingly. "I like it. Care to take a girl out some time, Gallick?"

He couldn't help but chuckle to himself. _My wife will kill me if I take her out._ "Sorry Kia, I have—" he faltered briefly in his attempt to appear confident about her survival.

He wasn't, though. Not really. He hoped with all his being that she was still out there, alive and unharmed, but his war wired brain never ceased to remind him of the odds stacked against her.

Unlike him, she was just a civilian. Tough by all definitions of the word, but not honed for the art of war as he was.

Feeling incredibly depressed, his three eyes fell in despondence to the glass Kiara was filling up. "I hopefully still have a wife out there waiting for me. I appreciate the thought." It was nice to know that even an old Batarian like him still had some attractive charm. "If I wasn't married I would not hesitate to take you out."

Kiara's smile turned sad, not because he denied her, but out of sympathy for his fears. "I understand Gallick. If you weren't married I would have rocked your world." Her attempt to lighten his mood earned a chuckle out of him. "I hope she is okay," Kiara said caringly.

"As do I, but thank you. Omega and the Sol System are too far apart for reliable communication with comms still screwed." It'd take more than a few weeks to get comms to reach that distance again. "I'll keep hope until I hear her voice again or see her in person. Otherwise…I'll meet her again someday," he said solemnly.

"I wish the best for you, Gallick."

"Thank you," he said, nodding in appreciation for her honest words.

He finished his drink off then looked down to the Cerberus agent, who was still being shocked by his submission net. Bastard was lucky he was more respectable now; what he would have done to him if he wasn't, well, a Batarian's imagination was vast and knowledgeable when it came to torture.

"Tara, we've got one racist bastard wrapped up and ready to depart. Where should I bring him?"

Tara's sigh was long and frustrated. Obviously she was worried about his walk out with an unconscious human slung over his shoulder, but it wouldn't be so bad.

More than one human had passed out because they couldn't handle their liquor. He'd seen it time and again over his long years. Who was to say this one was any different? Or that the Batarian himself wasn't security taking out a patron who started a fight?

"You are one of the most impatient Batarian's I know Gallick. Just carry him out and meet up with Carson. Also, I know this may be asking a lot, but try not to spook his companions."

"Yeah yeah. I'll wait with Carson so I can bust the heads on the remaining bastards."

"Sounds like a plan. I know Kiara already said it, but your wife will be fine. She's one of the toughest civilian women I have ever met," Tara said soothingly.

True, she was, and that was one of the reasons why he could fend off the doubts his mind tried to weigh him down with every day.

"I know. I'm not crying myself into a drunken stupor or hitting everyone I see or blaming all the other races for my problems so I'd say I'm doing well. No pep talk needed. Shepard."

The Batarian deactivated the submission net and picked up the paralyzed human, slinging the man over his shoulder before looking to the redhead.

One last time he examined the human. The light in her eyes was shining brighter than ever. Unlike all the interviews and vids he had seen of her where the burden placed on her shoulders was visible in her eyes, he could see hope and life and happiness in abundance. He could see how enamored she was by Kasumi, the purity of her love and how it would never fade away.

Long ago he had been the man the soldiers looked to for hope, for guidance, for strength. In the end he survived only to watch his hard work be destroyed by politics and the future he dreamt of snatched away.

But when he looked at Ghost, and now Shepard, he could see a brighter future. One not tied to the same fate he experienced. A future of peace where soldiers like them didn't have to die or see their dreams destroyed. A future where the next generation would learn from the mistakes of old men like him and pave a way towards the same dream he once fought for, only a galactic scale rather than among just one species.

"It's been an honor." He bowed his head in gratitude.

_Thank you for making this old soldier's dream a reality._

She bowed her head back to him. "Take care of yourself Gallick."

He nodded and left the bar with the Cerberus agent in tow. That he could do. For his wife's sake and the sake of his friends.

"So, did everything go as you wanted it?" Ghost asked over their private comm.

"It did," he answered. "Oh, and Ghost."

"Yeah, Gallick?"

"Thank you for giving this old soldier a chance to do some good."

"And thank you for giving this insignificant kid the guidance he desperately needed to lead this team from the slums of Omega to war-hero status. I couldn't have done it without you."

Gallick appreciated his words, but any more sentimentality might kill him. He let a smirk pull onto his lips. "True."

"…We were having a moment and you ruined it."

"Consider that vengeance on behalf of Shepard and Kasumi."

It was the least he could do for them.


	13. Chapter 13: One Giant Leap

Chapter 13

One Small Step, One Giant Leap

When it came to work related matters, Miranda rarely found herself stricken by indecisiveness. Her intellect and skill ensured there were only a handful of issues capable of completely derailing her or biting at her nails in anxiety.

Tactics and plans came naturally to her. If something didn't go according to plan, her intellect allowed her to open a new path to keep her forward momentum. No fuss, no crisis of confidence; she would solve the issue and look ahead to the next with calculating eyes.

But that was what she was trained for. Work had been her normal. Work was where she found her purpose in a life without family or friends. Relaxation, shore leave, even something as simple as a short break was all but alien to her.

She lived to fulfill a purpose, and then to find a purpose worth living for. To halt all forward momentum to give her legs a rest from the never-ending path she was on wasn't an option. It just felt so…wrong, quite frankly. Surely there was something she could work on; a problem to solve, aid to give, _something_ that needed her immediate attention.

Something to give her meaning to be here,_ alive_.

Long ago her father defined her purpose. She was to be his dynasty, created to be the perfect specimen. Well, as soon as he learned she didn't fit his mold she became useless. A waste of his genome. A waste of life.

Oriana would be perfect. She would be his new dynasty, and Miranda would succumb to the fate of all his past creations.

"_You think you are the first? Don't be ridiculous. You were just the first I kept, and still you proved to be a failure."_

Those words haunted her. They followed her relentlessly through her remaining years under his thumb and even into Cerberus. But those words also set fire to her soul. She would _not_ bend to his will ever again, and she would steal his dynasty right out from under him so her replacement…no, her sister would get to live the life she never had the opportunity to have.

Oriana could live and love and have everything normal she dreamed of that was more perfect than their genetics.

Oriana's rescue hadn't been flawless, of course. How could it be when she was flawed? Her father witnessed her act of rebellion, had been helpless as his two…creations were whisked away from right under his nose. And that meant he would hunt them.

Miranda would have to live her life on the run from him, and if Oriana could live normally, she would have to go somewhere that could hide her from the egregious wealth and connections her father maintained.

Cerberus.

It was within that organization she honed her skills and found a new purpose. Work. Work defined her. Work gave her meaning.

But what was Miranda Lawson without work?

What made Miranda Lawson who she was beyond her work?

Miranda never asked herself. What purpose was there in asking insignificant questions like those when there was so much to do? Oriana needed to be protected. Connections to outmatch her father's needed to be made. Preparations for the day she finally had the chance to kill him needed to be planned for.

She had a purpose in work. It gave her meaning in how she was created and what she was created for. Work challenged her, pushed her to use every ounce of her skills to prove she was worth the air she breathed. Failure was unacceptable, and so each failure hit her fragile heart with the force of a twenty-first century city buster.

Commander Shepard helped her to start seeing herself as more, but in the end bad habits weren't broken easily.

The Suicide Mission, the Reaper War and Shepard's recovery all provided her with objectives to complete, a defined purpose to live for; be the perfect XO, hunt down her sister and stop her father's insanity, save her truest friend from the clutches of death.

Yet as she looked around Shepard's mostly vacant apartment from the main living area, she realized there was nothing requiring her immediate attention. Nothing to fill her time. No appointments, no files to log, not even something to do for Shepard's recovery.

Everything about her recovery moved on an upward trend towards perfect health. Soon enough Shepard would be physically at full strength because of her physical therapy and Jack's training.

All Shepard really needed now was time. Well, time and her daily dose of Kasumi Goto.

With Shepard nearly fully recovered, though, Miranda's work was essentially over, and that left her with more free time than she knew what to do with.

She already got in an early morning jog, a workout before noon and a nice shower afterwards, all in an effort to clear her mind and figure out her next move.

It, unfortunately, didn't make anything clearer.

Who _was_ Miranda Lawson without work?

After checking in with her sister and running a few personal errands, Miranda returned to the apartment, hoping it'd somehow grant her an epiphany on what exactly her next course of action was.

No epiphany came, and so she stood in the main room, opposite of the kitchen next to the big picture window of the apartment. The scenery wasn't all bad out there, she supposed. Buildings, neon lights, a broken aquarium due to a particular redheaded Commander and serene silence created by the glass separating them from the outside world did make for a pretty picture.

_You could almost forget we fought a war._

Miranda liked it. Although every bit of this was an anomaly to her, she couldn't deny the comfort of being free from work. A deep alcove of her mind wondered where she might live in the future. Would she live on the Citadel where everything was accessible? Or did she want to settle on a planet like Earth, somewhere in a city or on the remote outskirts of one?

So much to consider. Options she never believed she'd get to choose for herself were laid out before her. Doors once inaccessible were now wide open for her to enter or walk past because her future was hers to claim.

Her father couldn't dictate to her what she could and couldn't do. The Illusive Man couldn't order her to do anything. They were dead, gone, their sway over her life biotically ripped from their grasps.

Miranda Lawson could be _free._ Free of their influence. Free to choose her own life. Free to find her normal.

But settling down was too long off for her to even spare more than a second of thought to. Work still needed to be done, after all. Repairs needed to be made, a galaxy needed to be reconnected and she needed to find her place in all of this.

Where did Miranda Lawson fit into this new, war-scarred galaxy?

"Hmm," Miranda hummed softly, still deep in deliberation over how to best help the relief effort.

There were a few avenues she could pursue. Her skills had already proven useful at Huerta. In theory she could keep volunteering there or at any other hospital. Perhaps she could volunteer her medical knowledge at a human refugee camp. It wasn't as if there was any shortage of wounded; although the Reapers did live closer to their namesake than Miranda would have preferred.

If she had sufficient enough knowledge on alien biology she'd consider helping alien camps, but her knowledge was too lacking for her to provide real aid to them. At most she would be regulated to something that would waste her considerable talents.

But was that where she could do the most good? Could she help more people by moving from refugee center to refugee center as a doctor or were there other places that needed her aid?

Biotic's were still needed to help with cleanup, and she was no slouch when it came to biotic power and control. Maybe she could join a cleanup crew? Clear out new paths, maybe open up new areas or find missing persons?

It would be helpful for travel across the station and she could possibly help find survivors or, in the worst case, help with the retrieval of the dead.

Or there was the tech field of expertise. They needed all the brain power they could get to figure out how to repair the Relays. That was the main goal of the Sol System: repair the Relay to reconnect the Milky Way. While she wasn't an expert on Reaper tech, maybe there was use of her intellect there?

_Where can I be most useful?_

That was the question she was left with in the absence of working on Shepard. Despite her vast intelligence, though, Miranda couldn't say definitively which path was the right one for helping the relief effort and for her personally.

To find her normal, she couldn't just shoot from the hip and hope she hit her real target. Doing so would be the same as making a decision out of necessity rather than because she wanted to do it.

_I've done that enough in my life_, Miranda decided, only to sigh. _But the galaxy needs all the help it can get_.

Her wants and desires could wait for now, couldn't they? For the sake of her sister's future and the sake of the galaxy, she could continue to put her desire for normalcy aside until the major damage was repaired.

It wasn't as if she was already middle-aged by normal standards, plus her genetic engineering guaranteed a longer lifespan than the average human—excluding the possibility of being killed in battle.

Plenty of time left to help the relief effort and eventually seek out her normal.

Except…that wasn't exactly true, was it?

_Galactic level of repairs will take decades. There's no guarantee I'll ever get the chance to pursue my own path if I push it off for a later date._

Life gave no guarantees, and there was no bartering for more time or a better run when she reached the end of her life.

Running a hand through her hair, Miranda shut her eyes and exhaled deeply through her nose. Was it wrong to want to be a little selfish? To desire a chance to choose for herself what kind of path she _wanted_ to follow instead of the same old road she had walked up until now?

_No._ In the past her answer had been completely different. Back then what she wanted didn't matter to her. It was about what needed to be done and how it needed to get done.

How did she keep Oriana safe? What kind of influence did she need to gain in Cerberus to achieve her goals? Her feelings, her emotions, none of them mattered.

She would _never_ get a chance to be normal. Oriana could, and for her sake she would do anything necessary to ensure her sister got everything she deserved.

Happiness, a normal family, a normal life. Everything Miranda wanted, but could never have. But that didn't matter. She could shut off her heart, freeze it behind walls of ice and move forward because as long as her sister was safe and happy, her purpose and duty as an older sister was fulfilled.

Oriana's life mattered, Oriana's safety mattered. Regardless of how much she wished she could be _in_ her life, Miranda would stay in the shadows because her feelings didn't matter.

Except…when given the opportunity to stay in the shadows, to continue hiding her existence from her sister because she deserved so much more than a flawed sister, Miranda chose to be selfish.

Being a part of Oriana's life was a selfish decision. Chasing after her sister during the middle of the Reaper War without telling Shepard what was going on was a selfish decision. The party they held had been selfish. Keeping Shepard away from the galaxy was selfish. The reunion was selfish. Figuring out her relationship with Jack was selfish

Right now the most selfless woman she had ever known was on a date, forgetting the problems of the galaxy for a night so she could create a memory with the woman she loved.

Was any of this wrong, though?

_No._

Cerberus, the Reaper War, even her father had all forced enough decisions on them. And Shepard, she had been selfless a hundred lifetimes over for the sake of everyone else.

In this new galaxy without Reapers, everyone was stuck trying to balance what needed to be done while taking moments for themselves, either alone or with the people they cherished.

Everyone had regrets. Some missed their opportunities to tell people most precious to them how much they loved them before the end. Others regretted working long hours and never making time to do the things they wanted to do in life while they had the chance to.

Nobody wanted to add any more regrets to the list. While it was true everyone needed to pitch in and help the relief effort, there was also a need for people to stop, breathe and live a little. Even if it was only for a few minutes.

Still, none of this answered Miranda's question on _what_ she planned to do to help. Only after she figured that out would she let herself actually enjoy a moment of respite like this…Maybe.

Her mind rarely ever stopped its storm of thoughts about what came next or what needed to get done. _Perhaps I should ask Samara to teach me meditation_, Miranda considered. _Maybe that would help me to relax more._

Making a mental note to speak to the Justicar later, Miranda released a sigh and turned away from the big picture window to grab a drink from the kitchen. It was just a delay tactic— something to do to buy her more time to figure out how she planned to spend the rest of her evening without work.

She _really_ wasn't good at this whole normal thing, but she'd keep trying. _Nothing worth doing is easy, after all._

"Hey Cheerleader, get your ass over here quick!" Jack called from the main bar area.

Miranda furrowed her brow. _Why does she sound like she's on the verge of hysterical laughing?_

Curiosity piqued, she changed her trajectory from the kitchen to the main bar, finding Jack sitting on one of the stools with her back to her. Garrus sat on the couch adjacent to her.

Both were entranced by whatever was on the vid-screen, incredibly amused, too, if Jack's grin was anything to go by.

Of course that only furthered Miranda's curiosity and apprehension over what could be so interesting, but she refrained from looking for the moment.

Quickly scanning the area, she noticed the current occupants of the apartment couldn't see her from this angle.

_Perfect._

She only needed a single moment of privacy, and it seemed fate was being kind to her. She sauntered up to Jack's side and rested her hand right below the bottom of her jacket, drawing her fingers gently in a circle along her tattooed skin.

Jack's body seemed to relax under the affectionate touch, but neither brought attention to themselves. Personally, Miranda relished these secret affections. Nothing as serious as an embrace or a kiss ever happened—_unfortunately_, whispered a quiet corner of her mind.

They were still testing boundaries, learning what was okay and what was too much, too soon. But that was okay. What affections they did share were lovely. Cozy. Tender. Timid. Honest and vulnerable.

Better and more than Miranda ever hoped for.

Jack glanced up at her, her grin still in place, in turn making Miranda offer a warm smile. Spontaneity like this couldn't be more foreign to the raven-haired woman. She made precise plans, charted courses with a direct objective to reach, never departed from the path she walked.

With Jack, though, all of that changed. She was the chaos to her organization, throwing wrenches in her calculations so she'd have to give honest reactions instead of the ones she planned for.

It would have been annoying if these brief moments of affection didn't make her feel so _alive_.

"You called?" she asked, her voice smooth while her hand glided off.

"Check out who's on the news," Jack said, lifting her chin up at the vid-screen.

_That_ was not reassuring at all. Miranda's body tensed as her mind jumped to worst case scenarios—all of which involved Grunt and C-Sec—and solutions to them in the brief second it took for her eyes to jolt over to the screen.

What she found instead released the tension immediately, though that had less to do with the actual news and more to do with Jack's index and middle finger gently squeezing her pinky and ring finger for a second.

"Is Shepard…actually dancing?" Garrus asked, seemingly perplexed by the sight.

Nobody to serve on the Normandy would blame him for his shocked amusement. Shepard's dancing abilities were famous, or infamous, among the crew and a consistent source of banter. Not that any of them were any good at dancing to start with.

They were soldiers, operatives, mercenaries, Krogan and many other occupations, but not professional dancers. Still, seeing the first human Spectre and savior of the galaxy failing to stay on beat as she danced was quite humorous.

"She's tangoing, to be exact," Miranda offered.

Quite well, if she were honest.

Watching Kasumi and Shepard tango on the Silver Coast Casino's dance floor brought a smile to Miranda's lips. They had the entire floor to themselves and a crowd cheering them on, though neither seemed aware of it. Their eyes were firmly on each other, wide smiles on their faces as they got lost in their moment.

_You two are fearless in your love for one another._

They were so unrestrained in their love, and to be honest Miranda envied their ability to be so open with each other. She wanted to be as fearless as they were. She wanted to be able to be open about her feelings and with her affections, but her past experiences and habits kept her from doing so.

_What if I come off as a fool? What if the person I try to be openly affectionate with doesn't want to be? What if I get hurt?_

Internally, Miranda struggled against self-doubt. Maybe that made her more human, but to her it made her feel weak.

To be open with someone the way Shepard and Kasumi were with each other meant leaving her heart open and vulnerable for them to see her as she was; her flaws and quirks, her wants and dreams, her greatest hopes and darkest fears, all would be on display just as they were between Shepard and Kasumi.

Everything about that left her with a terrible knot of uncertainty in her gut. Could she really be so fearlessly open with her feelings and affections? Her entire life had been spent looking over her shoulder and guarding her heart behind an entire solar system of ice.

Being open was the complete opposite of what she knew…but when she looked at Shepard and Kasumi, their love and their happiness, it made her _want_ to be fearless.

She wanted to let go of her reservations, shut her mind off and stop thinking of the different variables and possibilities and just _live_. Seeing them in their moment made her want to banish every self-conscious thought, step out of her comfort zone and be free for a change.

Deep down Miranda knew she couldn't just jump right in and do it. It just wasn't in her nature…but she could start taking steps in that direction.

_The risk is worth the reward._

"Since when did the Girl Scout actually know how to dance?" Jack asked to no one in particular.

"Hmm. You know, with the right tech Shepard could have fabricated this entire thing to make the galaxy believe she knows how to dance," Garrus offered the conspiracy in jest.

Miranda couldn't help but snort at the ridiculousness of it. "As entertaining as that would be, nobody could fabricate how those two look at each other."

"True."

Pure love like theirs couldn't be fabricated.

"Well, I guess we'll all have to leave for a few hours," Jack said, her grin still in place.

Confused, Miranda turned to Jack and asked, "Why would we need to leave?"

Not that she minded the idea. Shepard and Kasumi could use more private time without interruptions. But still, the apartment was quite large. The two lovers could easily have their privacy without really trying.

Somehow Jack managed to grin even wider as her brown eyes brightened in mirth. "Cheerleader, unless you want front row seats to those two having hot sex tonight, we should all give them space for a few hours."

Realization of Jack's incredibly valid observation plowed into her like a speeding skycar. Garrus coughed, or sputtered really, from the couch but Miranda barely heard it. Her eyes were immediately drawn back to the vid-screen just in time to see Kasumi and Shepard share a passionate kiss at the end of their dance.

"I suppose we can all find something to do for a few hours," she conceded.

In their shoes she wouldn't want anyone around either.

"I'll inform the others," Miranda said before departing to send messages to the missing crew and speak to the current members occupying the apartment about leaving.

Although the prospect of having Jack tell the crew was amusing, she opted to take a gentler approach that did not include telling every single member of the crew that Shepard and Kasumi were about to have sex.

_Talk about awkward._

By the time Shepard and Kasumi did return, the apartment was empty of everyone save Miranda, Jack and Garrus. It seemed only courteous to inform them they had the entire apartment to themselves, and it also provided the opportunity to tease them a little before leaving.

Jack was the first to take notice of their arrival, a smirk forming on her lips the moment she saw them. "When did you have the time to learn how to dance like that, Shepard? Weren't you too busy saving the galaxy?"

Surprise pulled onto both of their features at Jack's knowledge of the dance. Underneath it, though, Miranda could see the lingering embers of their lust and passion.

They both stood as close to one another as humanly possible without carrying each other. One set of hands remained entwined, and it seemed Shepard had a few love bites marking her skin around and on her neck.

_They'll be having fun while we're gone_, she noted in amusement.

"Actually learned around the time I joined the Alliance years ago," Shepard answered. "I haven't done it since. We really were winging it as we went along."

They had done well for 'winging it'. _I'd attribute their ability to synch up on the dance floor to how well they synch up on a daily basis and in battle._

"Who recorded it anyways?"

"Not sure," Miranda said, shrugging slightly at Shepard's question.

The footage hadn't been shot professionally, that was for certain. The angle and the quality was too civilian to belong to a real reporter, definitely based on the interview conducted by Al-Jilani with the three members of the N7 Talons afterwards.

"I'm sure we could probably track them down, but surely you aren't looking for petty revenge over someone recording you dancing good for once, are you Shepard?"

Shepard opened her mouth for a retort, yet no sound came out. Only silence until finally she shut her mouth and pursed her lips in a frown of defeat. Laughter left her four friends at the sight of her pout.

She may not have liked her intimate moment being filmed but Shepard saw Miranda's point clearly. What sense was there getting rid of footage of her dancing well? It was likely the only evidence that would ever exist.

"I wouldn't have believed it without the recording." Garrus paused for a moment and hummed to himself before continuing. "I'm still not sure I believe it. It could have been a fabrication. Miranda, are you sure you checked—"

"Yes, Garrus, I am sure," Miranda interrupted, smiling and rolling her eyes at the joke.

"My dancing wasn't that bad before…was it?" Shepard turned to Kasumi with her question.

"Not going to lie Shep, if someone would have told me you could tango I wouldn't have believed them." Shepard sighed and dropped her head, defeated by the unchangeable consensus of her team. She brightened when Kasumi planted a peck on her cheek. "I still love you regardless of your dance moves without a partner."

Unfortunately for the teasing trio, love won Shepard their round of banter.

"Cheerleader, Garrus, let's get out of here before we're victims to hearing them bed each other."

"Leaving already?" Shepard questioned.

"We really stayed behind to let you two know none of us would interrupt you…" Garrus cleared his throat awkwardly. "…Blowing off steam."

Between Jack and Garrus calling them out, Shepard and Kasumi were left to blush and smile bashfully, offering no denial to the claim.

Why would they when it was so obvious?

Miranda offered them a small life line. "You've got a few hours before we have to come back." Then she ripped it away. "I doubt you'll stop anyway, but I thought I'd give you two a heads up."

And with that she proceeded to make her exit. Lingering longer would only give them another opening to steal the victory away.

"Ha! Those two will probably be at it for the whole night. Gonna be hard for anyone near their room to get to sleep tonight," Jack said as she followed after Miranda and Garrus.

There was still no denial, but Kasumi and Shepard did turn redder in response to her crude—and accurate—description of the night.

As Jack passed them, she slugged Shepard's shoulder, the smirk on her face clear in her voice. "Have fun you two. Try not to break anything with your biotic's."

"As long as you and Miranda hold yourselves to the same rule," Shepard fired back.

Miranda fought down the need to openly groan in irritation. Jack just _had_ to push her luck, didn't she? They were _so_ close to getting away unscathed, but no. She tried to get one last jab in, granting Shepard the opening she needed to turn it back on them.

"Damn them," Miranda grumbled under her breath, her cheeks warming at the image her traitorous mind created for her.

"You may have won a few battles, but Shepard never loses the war," Garrus said, chuckling to himself. "Well, not unless you're as skilled as me."

"Bite me, Garrus. Better yet, bite Tali instead. She might like it," Jack shot off.

Garrus, ever the cool-headed individual, hummed in amusement, refusing to give Jack the easy win. "Now now, no need for hostility. You gave a good fight."

Jack cursed under her breath, which was about as close to a formal resignation of defeat anyone could get out of her.

After taking the elevator to the main lobby of Tiberius Towers, Garrus departed on his own to check on the Turian refugees, hoping there might be news on his sister and father.

Left alone on the Silversun Strip with Jack, Miranda took yet another step towards being more spontaneous and open.

"Jack, would you care to join me on a walk?" she asked.

Jack quirked an eyebrow up at the sudden request but gave a small nod. "Sure. Going anywhere in particular?"

A sheepish smile took form. "I haven't…actually planned any destination."

She wasn't even sure which direction they would go or what they'd do to occupy their time. Was walking even a sufficient way to spend time together? Miranda wasn't sure. She didn't know how it would turn out or if they'd actually enjoy their time together. But…

"I suppose I just wanted to spend more time with you."

The look Jack gave her was partially amused and mostly warm at her admittedly shy declaration. _I didn't even know I could be shy_.

It felt wrong. Weak. Yet it was authentic down to the smallest molecule of nervousness she kept hidden. Not that it mattered. Jack had already seen through her mask of confidence.

"All right. Lead on, Miranda."

Miranda couldn't help herself. "Try to keep pace. Once I take the lead, I rarely let it go," she flirted.

Jack's lips split into a grin. "We'll see about that."

Bold words from both of them, Miranda just hoped she could back them up with action.

Side by side they strolled down the neon lit Silversun Strip with no real destination in mind, meandering through the crowds of people as they shared in conversation, banter and even light flirtation. Nothing ever too serious or crude escaped them; caution was just as important as spontaneity as they figured out their evolving relationship.

Together.

The last week of private interactions had already proved enlightening. It was clear to both of them that they did feel _something_. There was an attraction beyond the superficial layer, and they weren't aiming for this to turn out as just a physical relationship.

Deep down, Miranda and Jack both wanted to have a deeper, intimate connection with someone. _We just never believed it would involve each other._

But how far did their feelings go? How far did they want them to go? Were they even emotionally compatible? Sure things were working now, and they were nice, but what if they wanted to be closer? Would they want to be as emotionally attached to one another as Shepard and Kasumi were?

There were so many questions, too many for them to answer in a single week. Still, the time was enough for them to answer some of the more important ones.

Did they want to see where this went?

_Yes._

Were they attracted to each other beyond a physical level?

_Yes._

Were they willing to work around their duties to their sister and students to try to make this work?

_Yes._

Was there a desire to eventually be more connected, emotionally and physically speaking?

_Absolutely, but let's take it slow._

With those answered, they were able to lower a few more walls around their hearts so they could grow closer. For Miranda, though, she felt as if she was being more reserved with her feelings than Jack was. In fact, she felt cowardly.

Ever since the end of the war, Jack had shown her time and again how much she had matured since the Suicide Mission. She always found a way to open up about her fears, even when it was hard for her to do. And when Miranda needed someone to help pick her up and dust herself off after nearly losing Shepard, Jack wasted no time in stepping forward.

She bravely opened up on the day she almost lost Rodriguez, revealing her true feelings about Miranda and how much she appreciated her words at the party.

She even had the courage to confront their new bond without backing down.

And what had Miranda's initial response been when given the chance to tell her she felt something similar? She pushed Jack to say more without opening up herself until the very end. It felt…wrong. It _was_ wrong. She was forcing Jack to carry the burden of these foreign feelings without supporting her.

Sure there were moments where she stepped up, but Miranda felt as if she wasn't putting forth the same effort as her tattooed counterpart, even though she wanted to.

She wanted to be more open with her feelings. She wanted to be daring now and then. She wanted this new relationship to succeed.

_I want…to share something more with her._

Where did she start, though? How did she start?

_No one ever got anywhere without taking chances._

Heart beginning to beat faster, Miranda slowly reached out to Jack's hand, brushing her fingers across her skin until she could wrap her pointer and middle finger around her pinky and ring finger.

On the outside Miranda showed no sign of hesitation or doubt. Any passerby might assume she was used to public displays of affection, and they'd be fools.

Nothing about her was calm on the inside. Every self-conscious thought possible was screaming bloody murder at her for the action; because why did she take such an uncalculated risk when they were still being private about everything? What if she was pushing too far? What if Jack ripped her hand away?

When she felt Jack's eyes on her it took every ounce of willpower and feigned ignorance to keep her hand from snapping back to her side. _Don't look. Don't look._

Looking now would be catastrophic. Those brown eyes could be full of fiery vexation at her stupid attempt to be audacious. Such a foolish miscalculation on her part would certainly come with consequences.

Miranda unconsciously loosened her fingers grip a fraction in preparation of Jack pulling away. She wasn't here to hold her prisoner, after all. Obligated affection wasn't remotely interesting or desired by the raven-haired woman.

If she wanted that, she'd have found someone years ago to be miserable with.

Again Jack managed to surprise her. No scowl crossed her lips nor did she ask in her colorful language what she was doing or why she was doing it. Instead she wordlessly released her fingers to interlace all of their fingers together.

A tingling sensation spread across her body as if she were summoning her biotic's to create a barrier or attack, sourced by the warmth emanating from her heart at the innocent intimacy she couldn't recall experiencing with anyone besides Jack.

Glancing into her peripherals, Miranda noticed a tint of pink forming on Jack's cheeks as she looked at a nearby store, obviously avoiding eye contact and hiding the slight upturn of her lips.

Every aspect of this was new to them. Their lives thus far had demanded them to shield their hearts and keep everyone at arms distance; personal relationships were too dangerous, unwanted or strictly avoided out of fear of the pain it might cause them later.

Intimacy beyond casual sex or a one night stand to blow off steam never happened for them, either because of their impossible standards or because they never let themselves grow connected beyond the physical.

Honestly, it left much to be desired in her personal experience. Most of her one night stands didn't leave her very satisfied, though she couldn't deny her own coldness being part of the problem.

Here, though, she felt something, something warm and blissful and sensitive. To her analytical mind, it didn't make any sense. They were just holding hands. An innocent gesture such as this shouldn't have been able to impart these feelings on her.

So why did she feel lighter than air?

Why did she feel as if she was caught in a Singularity, being helplessly pulled into the orbit of a gravity well of warmth she had never experienced before?

Miranda couldn't say with any degree of certainty. Scientific answers escaped her, if there were any in the first place. Her mind was too preoccupied by the success of her risk to care, and her heart was far more content swimming in these feelings to question why they were so intense.

Regardless, this was a small step, possibly a footnote she may forget about years from now—hopefully because far more interesting events happened between them. But it was a step she was proud of, one that had taken no small amount of bravery and foolishness from her.

For a long while they kept mostly to themselves, stopping now and then to look at an intriguing store or sight, but always remaining anchored by their joined hands. That was enough for them to be at peace and enjoy their time together.

"Hey, you hungry?" Jack asked after a while.

"Not for a real meal, no. I ate a little before Shepard turned up on the news." Although now that she thought about it, _Commander Shepard Dances_ made for a pretty noteworthy headline, more so than any news organization realized. "I suppose I could go for a snack, though. What about you?"

"Yeah, I'm in the same boat." Jack halted their movement and pursed her lips in thought. "I noticed a few places back the way we came, but I didn't see if they served anything we could actually eat. And I'm pretty sure if we keep going forward we'll end up running into cleanup or residential areas."

An accurate conclusion. Their walk had taken them some distance away from Tiberius Towers and the main portion of the Silversun Strip. If they kept going they'd eventually hit an area under cleanup or a cleared out residential area. Luckily for Jack, Miranda did make note of one particular store they could eat at.

"Come with me. I know a place," she said, tugging gently on Jack's hand.

Jack cocked an eyebrow and didn't budge from her spot. "You're not planning on taking me into some fancy restaurant, are you? 'Cause I'll knock any snobby prick flat on his ass if he sneers down at me."

_I don't doubt it_, Miranda thought, exhaling a laugh at the image of Jack punching some pompous individual with a fake accent square in the nose. _It's not a terrible idea. I'd get dinner and an entertaining show._ As amusing as it would be, the last thing she wanted was to take Jack somewhere she'd feel uncomfortable.

Personally Miranda found her tattoos intriguing and attractive, and her scars were just a fragment of the whole of who Jack was, but the tattooed woman wasn't wrong for believing someone might sneer, glare or scoff at her appearance.

Even in a post-war galaxy, there were bound to be those who considered themselves "high-class" when they knew nothing of what class really was.

"No, not a fancy restaurant. I'm hardly dressed for the occasion even if I did want to go to one."

Which she honestly didn't. There were far better ways to spend her time than waiting hours for a reservation to drink overpriced champagne in a room full of miserable strangers. One such way was spending time with Jack in a casual setting, free from the social expectations of so-called high-society.

Tugging lightly on Jack's hand, she stepped backwards in the direction they came. "You'll enjoy it, I promise."

The place Miranda picked out earned her a cheeky grin from Jack when they arrived. "An ice cream shop? Didn't realize you were such a cliché romantic."

Heat flushed her cheeks as Miranda glanced away, slightly embarrassed by the truth. "I…Let's just get some ice cream."

"Heh, whatever you say, Miranda."

After ordering their individual small bowls of ice cream, the pair moved to the outside dining area to be away from the crowded indoors, sitting side by side at a table in a secluded corner.

Miranda chose a bowl of vanilla ice cream, nothing too special but still tasty in her opinion. Jack, on the other hand, had scoops of different flavors almost as colorful as her tattoos.

"What's had you in such deep thought today?" Jack asked as they ate.

Miranda, who had a spoon of ice cream in her mouth, hummed in surprise at first, honestly shocked that someone had noticed. But then again, Jack seemed to notice far more about her than she ever expected.

She swallowed her ice cream then spoke. "Oh. Well, I've been trying to figure out where I can best help the relief effort now that Shepard's almost fully recovered."

"And?"

"I'm not sure," Miranda admitted, poking at the scoops of vanilla, a frown creasing her lips. "There are a few things I can do, but I'm not sure where my skills will offer the most benefit, or where I feel most comfortable."

"I get that. I wouldn't want to be separated from my kids or doing something that wastes what potential I have to help." Jack lifted her spoonful of chocolate ice cream and pointed it at Miranda. "Why not work with your sister?"

"I considered it, but despite my vast array of abilities—"

"Stop stroking your ego in public, you'll scar a civilian," Jack teased before putting the spoon in her mouth.

A snort of laughter escaped Miranda as she rolled her eyes. "Despite my vast array of abilities," she continued without acknowledging the comment, "I know nothing of rebuilding homes or structures. I'm sure I could learn, given adequate time, but I also don't want to smother her by being overprotective or micromanaging her work. She's doing well leading her team without my help. I'm proud of her."

"Hmm. In that case, why not come help me and Kahlee with the Grissom Academy students?"

"I…didn't realize you two needed help," Miranda responded awkwardly, caught off guard by the offer.

Jack shrugged. "We have a few extra Alliance soldiers helping out, but their mostly just keeping the kids in line when Kahlee and I are busy helping the relief effort. Kahlee's too smart to be babysitting. They need her working on the big tech projects meant to fix the Relay's and comm buoys. With so many teenagers to watch over, and all of them wanting to help, I'm stretched pretty thin trying to take care of all of them."

Her scarred lips twisted into a smirk. "I suppose you could say we need someone with your 'vast array of abilities,'" Jack parroted her words.

"Ass," she fired back through a smile.

Jack spared her a small grin before her features returned to neutral. "Seriously though, you don't need to answer now, but think about it. You have the brains to help the tech prodigies, if you wanted. And your biotic's may not be as powerful as mine—"

"Now who's stroking their ego?" Miranda asked, smiling at Jack.

"Speaking facts," she retorted without missing a beat. "Anyway, point is you're a damn powerful biotic and the squirts could learn a thing or two from you."

A look of uncertainty crossed the raven-haired woman's features. She could see the logic behind the idea. By all means she could offer guidance to the young human biotic's considering her own talent with biotic's, and her intelligence would be enough to help her work with the tech prodigies. But there was a glaring issue.

"I don't know. I doubt those teenagers would like me as much as they like you."

Her personality was the polar opposite of Jack. No one ever accused her of having a sense of humor or being fun to be around. She could be strict, demanding, blunt and…well, neither of them were perfect, but Jack certainly understood how to teach teenagers better than she did.

"Don't be an idiot," Jack said, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "You think I believed a bunch of teenagers were going to like or listen to me? Or that I went in thinking I'd end up caring for the little squirts?" She shook her head. "Hell no. I was fucking nervous as hell and was certain I was going to hate every moment of it. Military life was Shepard's dream, not mine."

True, maybe it hadn't been her dream, but the kids of Grissom Academy made it worthwhile. _And she trusts me to help them._

That part was important. Jack might have been acting like it wasn't a big deal, but deep down it was.

She cherished those kids as much as Miranda cherished her sister, which meant they were equally overprotective about who involved themselves with their precious people. To extend such an offer was a profound show of trust, borderline on the same level of trust as two Quarian's linking suits.

"Okay," she said. "I'll give it a try."

Jack nodded once. "Just be yourself and you'll do fine. And don't be afraid to fire back at the squirts. They like it—fuck!" Her face contorted in pain, one eye shutting as she brought her free hand to her forehead.

At first Miranda's body tensed. Her concern for Jack's well-being jolted her mind to life to consider the possibilities of the sources of pain.

But then the reason became clear. Much like the shooting pain Jack was going through, the realization hit her without warning and left her doubled over, only instead of being in pain Miranda was laughing. Hysterical, uncontrollable laughter she didn't care to hide bubbled out of her.

"Argh, what the hell is this?"

"It's a—"

More laughter.

Miranda couldn't speak let alone breathe, and Jack's pained glare only made her laugh harder.

Oh, this was absolutely glorious. The most powerful human biotic she knew was having her first brain freeze. A bloody _brain freeze_ was better at immobilizing Jack than Cerberus, the Reapers and all the mercenaries they faced from the Suicide Mission to the end of the Reaper War.

This. Was. Amazing.

"I swear, as soon as this pain passes I'm going to hurt you," Jack growled under her breath.

"It's a brain freeze," Miranda tried to explain as her laughter died down. "Press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It should return your mouth to its normal temperature."

Jack growled at her again but seemed to take her advice. The contortions of agony faded and were replaced by searing brown eyes that only made it harder to keep a smile off her face.

Miranda took another bite of her ice cream to hide her smile, but the glare never once left her as the mismatched colored bowl of ice cream was forgotten.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"I'm going to get you back for this."

"I didn't technically do anything."

"It was your idea to eat here, and you laughed."

Rolling her eyes while failing to hide her amusement, Miranda took another bite of her ice cream. And then she had a brilliant idea. A nerve-racking, heart racing, brilliant idea.

"Well, if you're still cold…"

She set the last of her ice cream down and stood up, closing the small gap between herself and Jack to press a chaste kiss on her cheek before sitting back down.

"There. That should warm you up."

It certainly warmed her up, but the wide-eyed stare and pink flush on Jack's cheeks made it worth it.

"I'm…going to get you back for that, too."

Miranda picked up her bowl and winked, failing to hide her satisfied smile. "I look forward to it."

After finishing off their ice cream, the pair set off again, hands intertwined as they made their way towards the room Miranda and her sister were staying in. It was her idea, though she wasn't planning anything intimate—she had already pushed her luck far enough for one day.

The walk was meant to kill just a little more time for Jack's sake. Between the walk and the ice cream stop they had spent a little over an hour together; a lovely hour, but that was hardly enough time to guarantee Shepard and Kasumi weren't still being intimate.

Arriving at her room was slightly bittersweet. Their hour together—their unofficial date—had been delightful in every way.

From their conversations, to holding hands, to Jack's brain freeze and the kiss she placed on her cheek, every part left her smiling and feeling free of all of her responsibilities for the first time in…she couldn't even remember the last time she felt so free and at ease with everything.

Of course she would see Jack again tomorrow, and the next day and so on, but tomorrow they would be back to work. Back to their responsibilities.

Still, she decided to leave those thoughts for tomorrow. For now she would enjoy the last few moments of her day off.

"Thank you for walking with me. I had a good time," she said as they stopped at her door.

"Yeah, I had good time, too." As Miranda let her fingers slip away from Jack's she pressed a quick kiss on her cheek and moved to enter her room. A hand snatching hers stopped her in her tracks.

Hesitantly, she half turned to look at Jack, whose features were conflicted between nervousness and attempted bravery. "Stop…getting the last word, damn it."

The comment curled a teasing yet timid smile onto Miranda's lips. "I told you, once I take the lead I rarely let it go."

Her heart was racing as she slowly turned to face Jack. She took a nervous step forward to close the small distance between them.

Miranda had no idea what she was doing or what might come of this, but there was a hope. A hope that fired up the drive cores of anticipation in her heart.

She stepped forward again when Jack didn't step back or push her away. Personal bubbles were infiltrated. Bodies were mere inches apart. From this close proximity she could see the depths of those chocolate eyes; her fears, her hopes, her desires, her past and present, all were on display as they battled for control.

No doubt her blue eyes revealed the same as she struggled to keep her breathing even and her heart from breaking her ribcage.

But as much as she wanted to lean in and capture her lips with her own or be boosted up against the nearby wall, she couldn't bring herself to act.

Part of it was the familiar fear that kept her from acting. The self-conscious doubts that told her she was too flawed for anyone to care about her…but what really stopped her from taking the lead and kissing Jack or guiding the tattooed woman back to pin her against the wall was everything she had already done today.

Just today she initiated three separate instances of new affections: two kisses and publicly holding hands, all three being incredible risks considering the newness of their relationship and how foreign these feelings were to them.

If they were to actually take this next step—no, this next leap, she couldn't take control and do it herself. No matter how much her body and heart urged her to close the remaining distance and meld their lips together like an Asari melding minds with a mate, she needed to be rational and exert self-control.

_I have to let her know she doesn't need to do this now if she isn't ready._

There was no rush anymore. They could take their time and grow more comfortable with each other if Jack wasn't there yet.

Miranda was. She hadn't known it until now, but being so close to her, feeling the warmth of their hands anchoring her in this separate reality where only they existed, she was ready to kiss her. But just because she felt ready didn't mean Jack was, and that was perfectly okay.

_I can wait for her if she isn't ready._

"Jack…We don't—"

"Just…shut up, Miranda," Jack replied softly, her strong voice quieter. It kept Miranda silent, curious and full of anticipation at what she had to say.

Jack's free hand glided up her bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake as her eyes fell away, moved back to hers, fell to her lips and away again.

"I want to kiss you. I'm just…nervous as fucking hell about it."

In a different circumstance, a jest about her being nervous might have been entertaining. But Miranda could see her struggling and almost feel her genuine vulnerability, in turn making her feel even more nervous than before.

This was real. They were here, together, both desiring to kiss the other but too afraid to do it.

_All this time I've relied on her to get us through these moments of indecision._ Miranda's heart slammed harder against her chest than two Krogan's in a head-butting contest. _This time I'll take the lead._

"Would it be okay if I kissed you then?" she whispered. If they were to kiss, _really_ kiss, Miranda wanted to ensure they were both prepared and consenting to it.

Jack stilled for a moment, body tensing as she shut her eyes. Then she nodded mutely.

Okay, no pressure. She could do this. She could do this. She could be fearless and brave enough for them both to get through this.

Leaning closer, she felt her heart leap into her throat with every pulsation. Her free hand trembled as she glided it up and down Jack's jacket covered arm.

Their lips met, not in a flurry of passion, not rough in hunger for lust, but gentle and timid as the nerve-endings came to life.

Soft. Sweet. Tender. Vulnerable. Miranda couldn't have asked for anything better in this first kiss with Jack.

They parted slowly, staring deep into the others eyes as everything else around them permanently faded away and flames of courage began to burn within their hearts.

Miranda gently nudged Jack's nose with her own, playful, coaxing. Her fingers slipped from Jack's only to guide the tattooed hand to her hip, using her control over the situation to show her she didn't have to be nervous.

She _chose_ to be here with her. Not because it was convenient or necessary to survival or because she didn't know anything else, but because she _wanted_ to be here. Because though their hearts were tattooed by the pains of their past, here, together, they were free.

Here they could let their barriers down. Here they were _safe._ Safe to fail. Safe to be imperfect. Safe to show their scars without facing judgement, pity or disgust.

Safe to be themselves, flaws and quirks included.

Jack's hands moved to her hips, careful not to tread anywhere else just yet as their lips met again in another tender and timid kiss.

Slowly, gently, Jack guided Miranda's body closer, offering no resistance so the raven-haired woman could pull away if she wanted. She didn't. She let herself be guided forward until there was no space left between them.

As all her neurons and synapses switched on, Miranda's brain switched off. She was lost. Lost in the moment. Lost in the steady rhythm of tender kisses they fell into. Lost to the sensations she couldn't recall ever feeling so good. Lost here with Jack.

Nothing else existed. Not the Citadel, not the Sol System or the Milky Way. Just them, here, together and _absolutely alive._

Hearts were racing, arousal was climbing and _bloody hell_ did it feel good.

Before it could go further—which it certainly could have—the pair parted from their kiss, smiling and grinning at one another. Jack rested her forehead onto Miranda's and wrapped her arms around her back, embracing her for the first time. Miranda kept her hands interlocked behind her neck as she evened her breathing.

Neither spoke, but words weren't necessary. They knew. Any further and they'd be taking a trip down pleasure lane. The promise was enticing, but the short-term pleasure wasn't worth the long-term consequences.

Neither was ready for that particular leap. They needed more time. More time to grow used to their intimacy. More time to grow more comfortable with what they were becoming.

"You want to meet Kahlee tomorrow?" Jack asked quietly, as if speaking any louder would break the tranquility they were swimming in.

"If you both have time, certainly."

"All right. I'll see you at the apartment in the morning then."

They shared one last kiss before separating. Miranda watched Jack begin to walk away then spoke. "And Jack?"

The tattooed woman half turned to look back. "Yeah?"

Miranda smiled and winked at her. "Thanks for the date."

Jack smirked and rolled her eyes. "Always gotta get the last word, don't you?"

"Of course."

Miranda entered her room, heart thrumming along happily as her smile remained on her face.

She was looking forward to tomorrow.


	14. Chapter 14: Hearts Shattered

Chapter 14

Hearts Shattered

Tomorrow was never a guarantee.

Life's fragility has always been there, hidden in plain sight until tragedy strikes. Shorter lifespan species tended to understand it better than the Asari or the Krogan; the Asari lifespan provided far more time to live, learn and make mistakes while the Krogan were a durable and hardy species.

In the end, though, the Reapers forced the entire Milky Way to face the reality of life's fragile nature head-on. Some were frightened by it. Others promised to actually _live_ if they survived the war. The Krogan enjoyed the challenge.

Post-war hadn't changed their reality, not really. Reapers were dead, sure, but the fragility of their lives surrounded them, scarred into the very structures and spirits they had once believed indestructible.

Their grand spires and sturdy fortresses crumbled beneath the destructive force brought upon by an overwhelming legion. Their bodies were left battered and their spirits nearly broken as the nightmare never ceased.

Most people weren't taking their precious moments for granted anymore. They actively sought them out, hoping to never leave words and emotions unsaid ever again.

Underneath it all, though, there was a sigh of relief waiting to escape them. An exhale of _finally_, _it's over_. _Finally we can return to normalcy._

Everyone was finally working together. Real peace seemed to be settling over the survivors in the Sol System.

Tomorrow was never guaranteed.

One decision, one moment could shift the foundations beneath a person. A betrayal could lead to a group of misfit mercenaries becoming war-heroes. An act of compassion from a friend in your darkest moment could create a bond of eternal love and trust.

One moment could change the course of a relationship between two enemies and turn them into friends. A single conversation could change how you looked at someone; it could stir feelings within your heart to see them in a different light, for better or worse.

One decision could turn a soldier into a legend, wipe out an entire species or grant them a bright future. It could turn a benevolent leader into a tyrant or a tyrant into a martyr.

Life balanced on the edge of a knife. Now and then it fell into something wonderful or nightmarish. One sole fact never changed, though…

Tomorrow was not guaranteed.

Life was cruel and unforgiving. It could give someone the greatest day of their life one day and steal their hearts from them the next. The betrayal of the Blue Suns had taught Ghost that hard lesson. They stole the lives of friends he loved as family—friends who shouldn't have died so soon.

He would never forgive himself for it. Until the day he died, he would bear the scar of their loss, a scar tattooed on his heart just like the Blue Suns tattoo on the back of his neck.

He could never remove it; he felt no attachment to the mercenary gang, but the tattoo was a reminder to never let the fate that had befallen his friends ever happen to someone close to him again.

For ten years he kept that promise. Through the revenge he extracted on the Blue Suns, through the years building his crews reputation, through the fucking Reaper War where death surrounded them at every turn, he kept his friends safe.

In return, they gave him reason to keep pushing forward, to keep living _for them_ instead of drowning in turmoil.

With the end of the war, he believed the worst of the danger was behind them. What could top Reapers, right? Bastards were too tall and powerful for anything else to be topped by anything left in the Galaxy. And because of his team being ass-kickers, they secured a bright future for themselves as war-heroes and as the first legitimate cross-species N7 team.

Even better, peace and hope finally thrived. Species who once hated each other were working together, the blood they shed together in the war and their losses binding them together.

And so, like a moron, he exhaled his sigh of relief.

Then life grinned madly and punched him in the fucking nose for his incompetence.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!" he hissed, hands shaking and foot tapping on the remorseless, cold hospital floor rapidly.

Rage, frustration, guilt, sorrow; every negative emotion he harbored was exploding within him, forcing him to fight to restrain it all so he didn't lash out at an innocent bystander.

How could he let this fucking happen?

How could he let those sadistic _bastards_ do this to Kasumi?!

He could still see her bloodied and bruised face every time he shut his eyes. He could hear her pleading voice asking him to deliver the broken flower currently in his hands to Shepard.

_Damn it! Damn it all!_

Anger boiled his veins. The venomous heat circulated through his entire body with every pump of his heart, feeding more and more throughout his body, overwhelming him.

Someone was going to fucking pay. When his crew caught the men responsible and dragged their battered bodies to his feet, he would make them _suffer_. They would _beg_ for his mercy, and then, when they were groveling at his feet, sobbing because of how much pain he inflicted upon them, then and only then would they realize he had no mercy for their kind.

Glancing down to the flower, his purple eyes trailed across the red petals stained by droplets of darker crimson and the broken stem.

His heart sank. _I'm sorry, Kasumi._

He should have been faster. She should have never been forced to fight alone against so many people or suffered their sadistic beating.

But she did. He and his team arrived on the scene just as they were about to shoot her.

The rage he felt, the desperation as he took aim and bellowed, _"Don't you dare fucking touch her again!"_

He could still feel it vividly.

His round launched first and took the scum down before he could shoot her.

"_Take them all down!"_ Darian ordered the team as his leader sprinted at them like a demonic spirit thirsting for blood.

The men fled in fear at the sight of them but not without the Talons chasing after them on the order of Ghost.

"_Bring me back their heads on pikes!"_

Shakily, Ghost tried again to tape the broken stem back together. Again he failed. Too much held back rage, too many emotions colliding in him at light speed to keep his hands steady.

Realizing his endeavor to fix it was hopeless, he gently put the flower in his pocket then hunched forward, resting his head into his hands as he stared down at his tapping feet.

_I'm going to kill them all._

He hadn't felt such a volatile level of hatred and rage since the Blue Suns betrayal. The venom coursing through his veins wouldn't stop. Not now. Not until he killed every person responsible for this.

The grunts, the leaders, their fucking stooges, he didn't care how big their role in it was. They would regret laying their filthy hands on his friend. They would regret making the decision to stab a knife into Shepard's heart. They would regret fracturing the peace.

They would regret crossing Ghost.

"Ghost."

Ghost's head shot up. His purple eyes snapped to meet the concerned sky blue eyes of Commander Shepard.

"Shepard…"

Again the guilt hit him. Searing pain erupted in his chest as his heart was branded with one more failure to never forget.

_She gave everything for the Galaxy. She loves Kasumi as much as I love Tara…and after all that, she might lose one more person she loves because I couldn't protect Kasumi._

His eyes fell to the floor. It had been his duty to protect Shepard's crew. His duty to protect his friend, and now…

"You know, when I wished that we'd meet again, this wasn't how I meant for it to happen."

He just had to hope the doctors could save her.

* * *

Jack felt pretty fucking fantastic today.

She could lie and say it was caused for any number of reasons; continued progress in repairs, a good night of sleep, hell she could describe a night of hot sex to get a nosy individual to mind their own damn business. Within the security of her mind she didn't need to make an excuse or lie.

Simply put, her date with Miranda yesterday gave her a natural high no amount of red sand could match.

Seriously, if this was the kind of high Shepard and Kasumi rode every day, it was no wonder they looked like they just had sex even before they actually took each other to bed.

Of course Jack hadn't seen her time with Miranda as a date at first. More accurately, she refused to acknowledge it as such. She was still new to this, damn it. Thinking of it as a date didn't help her nerves at all. They were just spending time together, in public, as they continued to work through what this new bond meant to them.

Being around one another, talking about everything and nothing, it didn't seem like much, but Jack enjoyed every moment of it. It was a nice break from everything.

Miranda's attempt to be all smooth about holding her hand only furthered her enjoyment. They both acted like it wasn't a big deal, pretending as if they didn't even notice their hands were together at first, but a few gentle squeezes, a small tug here and there to keep her close by made it impossible to hide from how much they liked this new connection.

Jack couldn't remember ever holding anyone's hand, except maybe being pinned to a bed, floor or wall in the midst of rough sex. But nothing truly affectionate. Nothing that made her feel as warm and connected as it did with Miranda.

Then there were the two kisses on the cheek and their first real kiss. Fuck, she couldn't believe how nervous she felt about kissing Miranda. It wasn't like she was some teenage virgin asking out their big crush, or Kasumi and Shepard with their tender hearts.

She had plenty of fun screwing around in the past without a connection beyond the physical act.

Yet, with Miranda it was different. She _wanted_ more. She didn't want their kiss to be the same cold, emotionless and sometimes forceful affair she experienced in the past.

There were these weird feelings crawling beneath her skin. Good feelings that were asking for her to stop building up so many walls for once in her life and let herself be vulnerable—to be honest with this woman who she genuinely cared about and felt attracted to.

If she could just let down her guard, if she actually let these softer, more sensitive emotions guide her, maybe this could work.

Maybe she'd finally find not just a friend or a family, but someone who could be more.

It was hard. Letting down her guard, being vulnerable, they were the complete opposite of everything she once believed in. To actually open herself up meant confronting the chains and cages she locked her heart behind, and fuck did she have more than she remembered putting there.

Jack wasn't even sure she could take this leap yet, not without someone supporting her. Luckily, Miranda grabbed her hand, smiled and offered to jump with her into the unknown.

And so they jumped.

Jack's heart surged into her throat in anticipation and then thrill as their lips met in a timid kiss. Their hands found neutral areas to rest. Their bodies slowly moved closer until they were flush against each other as their lips met once, twice, again and again.

_Fuck_ did it feel good. Not just because of the obvious sensations. For what felt like the first time in her life, Jack felt genuine emotion in the kiss. Feelings of passion, sensitivity and vulnerability unlike anything she ever experienced made her feel truly alive and caught up in the moment.

It was almost disappointing they didn't go further, but only almost. They'd get there eventually. Meaningless sex was called meaningless for a reason.

Granted, it was still _a lot_ of fun, but to do that now would only devolve their relationship instead of help it grow.

Neither of them wanted that, they already made that clear before going any further.

Jack had been riding a wave of good vibes ever since, and it only continued this morning when James decided to cook his Huevos Rancheros. The meal was damn good, but it was after he returned with more supplies that her morning officially reached its peak.

"_Hey Esteban, where's Lola and Kasumi? I thought they'd be down here waiting for the Vega Special?" James asked as he entered the kitchen with groceries._

_Jack couldn't help but snort in laughter. It wasn't the ridiculous name of his meal that brought laughter to her—though that'd have done it normally. The cause for her amusement revolved around the current…activity Shepard and Kasumi were busy with._

_**Guess I'll have to give him a subtle warning**__._

"_You're still gonna want to cook it for them," she told him, her voice laced with mirth. James looked to her in question. "They're having the appetizer before your food, Muscles."_

_Totally subtle. Apparently even more than she intended considering his defensive response._

"_Appetizer? One does not need to have an appetizer when eating the Vega Special. It is the appetizer, main course and dessert all for breakfast."_

_Jack lost it. Mad cackles she had no hope of controlling burst forth. James sure liked to talk a big game but he was so utterly clueless!_

_How did he miss the hint when they had all been giving Shepard a hard time this morning about her and Kasumi?_

"_Uh, James." Steve Cortez, who was sitting on the counter, tried to hide his grin, but he couldn't at the confused and dumbfounded expression on his friend's face. "She means they're spending time together, intimately."_

"_But she said appetizer," he pointed out._

_Yes, she had. And any chance of her regaining control of her laughter died at that moment. She grabbed at her stinging sides as she doubled over with laughter._

_Holy fuck, how could he not realize what she meant? Was he really that innocent?_

"_What's so funny?"_

"_Fool primitive," Javik chimed in from his position at the fridge._

_Even the Prothean was grinning. The fucking Prothean understood her innuendo better than James!_

_"She means they're having sex, James," Miranda said as she entered the room, having heard the entire conversation._

_**Even Miranda caught it!**_

_She was never going to let James live this down. Never. Not when Javik and Miranda understood her innuendo, and she certainly could never let the muscular marine live down the awkward blush beginning to form on his cheeks._

"_Okay! Let's put together some Huevos Rancheros!" James announced in an obvious attempt to act like the conversation never happened._

_No one present would ever let him forget._

Jack exhaled a short chuckle and grinned at the memory. _And I thought getting the Girl Scout to blush this morning was entertaining. Muscles blew that out of the water._

Big, bad James Vega, the man who allegedly conquered a pack of Varren with his bare hands and a coincidentally placed spear couldn't handle a crude joke.

Between her and Steve, Vega had a _long_ week ahead of him.

After regaining control of her laughter, Jack finished up her meal and headed out to meet up with Kahlee. Miranda left with her, taking up her offer to speak to Kahlee about helping with the tech prodigies.

It'd do her good. The Cheerleader was a damn workaholic. Honestly, Jack worried she might go crazy if there wasn't something or someone who needed her help.

_She just needs to find a rhythm. The whole galaxy does._

Everyone had to find a new balance between work and their personal lives after the huge clusterfuck of a war they survived.

For Miranda it meant actually finding a rhythm for the first time. Perhaps she'd find it with the Grissom Academy kids, or maybe it wouldn't fit her as it had Jack.

It was just something they'd have to figure out.

Upon arrival, Jack introduced Miranda and Kahlee then left them to sort out the finer details. No sense standing around as a third wheel; Miranda didn't need her to hold her hand and walk her through a conversation. The definition of professionalism was probably accompanied by a picture of Miranda's face.

As long as she didn't shell up and turn into the Ice Queen, she'd do fine.

In the meantime, Jack went to work on writing a report of their progress, because apparently the Alliance couldn't get enough of that shit.

_Ugh_, she groaned. She pressed the palm of her hand to her forehead and let it slide down her face. _So much formality even after a war. Can't they loosen up a bit?_

Better yet, just send her and her kids back out to clean debris. They had been kicking ass and clearing shit out at a good pace. Why did it need a report beyond, _"Hey, shit's looking better,"_ to get the point across?

_I hate bureaucracy._

Her brats made it worth it.

The Grissom Academy personnel were currently stationed at an Alliance building. Nothing huge or luxurious as a resort, but that was military life in a nutshell.

The small makeshift office Jack used wasn't much to look at. Then again, she didn't spend much time here. She preferred to be out with her students, not stuck behind a desk writing stupid reports.

Scattered throughout the building were the students of Grissom Academy, using the cots and time off to rest as they waited for new orders. Miranda was with Kahlee somewhere, probably going over the current projects the tech students were working on.

_I wonder if Kahlee is still on guard._ It wasn't much of a secret who Miranda used to work for, at least not to higher-up Alliance personnel like Kahlee. To say Cerberus was a sore subject after what they did to Grissom Academy would be an understatement.

Despite Sanders being on guard, she didn't oppose the help or doubt Jack's or Shepard's confidence in Miranda's loyalty.

Jack's omni-tool flared to life on its own, signaling a call she learned was from Shepard. "Hey Girl Scout, what's up?" she answered as she worked.

"Jack, are you busy?"

The tone of her voice was enough to halt all progress on her report. Something was wrong.

That wasn't the Girl Scout checking in, it was Commander _fucking_ Shepard.

"No." Jack tossed the data-pad onto the table as she sat up straighter. Boring reports could wait. "What's going on, Shepard? You sound as if you're about to rip someone's head off."

Silence. Unnerving fucking silence was all she received. It set Jack on edge, a sharp edge she planned to shove into the throat of whoever caused her friend pain.

The silence explained almost everything in excruciating detail. Jack balled a hand into a fist and did her best not to grab the nearest object with her biotics to crush it.

Shepard eventually found the words, her voice softened by the blow dealt to her. "Kasumi is in critical condition. Doctor Chakwas and the doctor from the N7 Talons are taking care of her right now. I…"

Shepard fell silent. The hurt in her heart and storm of emotions surrounding her were palpable through the call.

It made Jack's heart tighten in her chest, as if some ridiculously stressed individual was using her heart as their personal stress ball.

One of her greatest fears had become reality. Someone out in this post-war galaxy decided to scream "Fuck peace!" and fire off a Thanix Cannon right at Shepard's heart. No way that wasn't intentional.

But what the fuck could she say? What could anyone say to Shepard at this point? Kasumi, the woman she loved more than her own fucking life, was in critical condition. Could be shot, beaten down, could have nearly been blown up for all she knew.

Shitty condolences and empty promises weren't going to change that. There was only one promise Jack could personally give and keep.

"Shepard, I swear we'll make the fuckers responsible for this pay."

Whoever did this, whether they were a single individual or an entire organization, she would help Shepard hunt them down to the corners of the galaxy and end them. They would burn down everything they had created and blow it sky high, just like they did on Pragia. Just like Shepard did to the Reapers and Cerberus.

"…You're right, we will," Shepard agreed. Strength and determination returned to her voice, a good sign that the N7 wasn't going to quit until they finished what these bastards started. "I want you to take care of your kids, Jack. Don't—"

"Shepard, my kids will be fine," Jack interrupted sternly, already standing up and grabbing her jacket.

No fucking way she was sitting this one out. This was an attack to their team. Their family.

During the war her kids needed her protection more than Shepard needed her for her squad. But this time was different. Her kids were safe here, secured behind trained soldiers who would be on high alert soon.

Right now, Shepard needed her to kick some ass.

"We regrouping at the apartment?" Jack asked, offering the N7 no room to argue.

"…Yes. We'll be teaming up with the N7 Talons on this."

_Good_, Jack thought, nodding to herself. If there was anyone they could rely on outside of their own team, it was the N7 Talons. They'd proven themselves to be tough, resilient and tactically capable soldiers during the war.

Her current state of living was without a doubt due to their arrival at the Natural History Museum and Ghost's decision to stay to protect them. Grissom and Chakwas would take good care of Kasumi.

As for the rest of them, they would kill the fuckers who hurt Kasumi in the first place.

"And Jack…Thank you," Shepard thanked.

Her gratitude was unnecessary. "Nobody fucks with our team and gets away with it."

They already lost Thane, Legion and Mordin. _Nobody else_, Jack promised herself.

"I'll tell Miranda and bring her with me."

"Okay. I'll see you soon."

"Kasumi isn't dead yet, so don't fucking count her out," Jack said before Shepard could hang up.

She wasn't one for soft emotions or anything. But she could stoke Shepard's flames and keep her focused on what mattered: Kasumi was still alive. As long as she still had a heartbeat, they still had a chance.

"She's gonna fight like hell to get back to you."

_Just like you fought to get back to her. To all of us._

"I know. Thank you."

"See you soon, Shepard."

Jack threw her jacket on as she exited her makeshift office and walked with a purpose in search of Miranda. The first person she came across was Prangley. Her student was lounging with a group of friends, all smiles and laughter at whatever they were talking about.

She hated to burst their bubble, but this was serious.

"Prangley, you seen Kahlee and Miranda?" she asked.

He looked up from his conversation, smile still in place until he noticed the fire in his teacher's eyes. Then it faltered. "Oh, um, yes ma'am. They went to Ms. Sanders' office. Is…something wrong?"

"Yeah, big time." Dodging the truth was pointless when they were bound to find out later. Plus it meant he'd take her next order seriously. "Don't let anyone leave until Kahlee or I give you an all clear, all right?"

She wanted her guys safe, and the best way to do that was to keep them in this secured building until the fight was over.

Prangley nodded sharply at the duty given to him. "Yes ma'am."

Jack hurried to the office and entered without knocking, too pissed to care about common courtesy. Common courtesy could fuck off right about now.

Miranda and Kahlee were both standing up in her office, grim expressions on their faces as their eyes remained pinned to the vid-screen.

At the sound of her entrance, they both looked over, but it was Miranda who noticed the change in the tattooed biotic immediately.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Before she answered, Jack's eyes flicked over to the vid-screen and noticed the headline on the news report. It only added fuel to her raging inferno.

Terrorists Bomb Refugee Camp.

"Fucking bastards," she hissed.

Not only did they put Kasumi in the hospital, but they bombed a refugee camp too? Oh, they were going to fucking pay. For the first time in her life people were actually working together, and then these assholes pull this shit?

_I'm going to rip their fucking spines out!_

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the blinding anger away for a calmer, focused anger. Pissed off was good, but blind anger wouldn't help anyone. She needed to sharpen her blade to a fine point to shove right into the heart of these bastards.

Her eyes moved back to Miranda. "Just got a call from Shepard. We're hunting the assholes that did that," she said, pointing to the screen. "Kahlee, can you watch after the kids while we go kick some ass?"

"Of course," she agreed with a nod. "I'll tighten up security and send a message to all the students to stay indoors. Give them hell for me."

"Oh, I plan to give them more than that," Jack said.

She would make hell look like a fucking vacation resort.

Miranda casted one last look at the vid-screen; a noticeable knot formed between her eyebrows in restrained anger before she turned to Kahlee. "I look forward to working with your students as soon as we settle this," Miranda said.

Kahlee managed a genuine smile. "I appreciate the help. Take care of yourselves."

"We will," Miranda said. She turned on her heel and headed for the exit, grabbing Jack gently by the bicep to guide her out.

Jack fell in step with her as they left the facility behind them for Shepard's apartment. While they walked, Miranda opened up her omni-tool to send a message to who Jack assumed was Oriana.

"Someone targeted a member of our team?" she asked as she worked.

Jack inhaled a deep breath to calm her heart. _Can't say I'm surprised she figured that out._ What else could rile her up so quickly? Honestly, Jack couldn't even remember being in a good mood at this point. But she couldn't just drop the truth in Miranda's lap callously.

It fucking hurt. Everything had been perfectly fine just a few hours ago. Kasumi and Shepard were practically attached at the hip, they were finally together and beyond happy. All of them had become hopeful that their problems were behind them.

And then this shit just happened out of nowhere. Now Kasumi was hurt, Shepard's heart was bleeding out and innocent fucking people were _dead_.

Why?

Because of some fucking assholes that should've just shot themselves to save them all the trouble.

A hand resting on her bicep made Jack stiffen and halt. Reality flooded back as the dark thoughts unhooked from her heart.

"Jack, you're biotic's are flaring up."

Yep, they were. She could feel the tingling sensation across her body as the blue aura formed around her.

_Calm down. Shepard doesn't need you to be a loose cannon. She needs you calm and focused_, Jack coached herself.

But how the hell could she tell Miranda the truth though without dragging her down into this same pit of darkness she was in?

"I know they're just words, but we're going to get through this, Jack. All of us," Miranda said, confidence behind the words Jack so desperately needed.

Why was it always easier to be strong for someone else but never yourself?

Taking the lifeline Miranda offered her, Jack pulled herself out of the darkness and let her biotic's die down.

"…Kasumi's in the hospital. Critical condition," she explained, words softer but weighed down by the gravity off the situation. Miranda's jaw tightened and a flare of anger flashed in her icy blue eyes. "Doctor Chakwas and Grissom from the N7 Talons are helping her already."

"She's in good hands then. I dare say better hands than my own." The latter part was meant in jest, scoring a small chuckle from Jack. "And those who chose to do this will be dead by the end of the day," Miranda added firmly.

"Damn right," Jack grunted in agreement.

Whoever had done this would regret ever being born when she was done with them. They had attacked right at Shepard's heart and killed innocent bystanders who survived the Reaper War.

No way. No way were they going to get away with this.

This was war.

* * *

_Review Response to xbraxbreakerx: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed the new update!_


	15. Chapter 15: Haunted by Ghosts

Chapter 15

Haunted by Ghosts

Ten years had passed since Tara witnessed Ghost fall into a volatile mood.

Ten years since the Blue Suns betrayed them and killed their friends.

The attack came from out of nowhere. Quite frankly, honed combat skills and no small amount of luck were the only reasons any of them survived that day. But…not all of them were so lucky.

Although externally the majority of the team received no wounds, the loss of their close friends meant none of them escaped unscathed. Each of them bore the scars of that Goddess forsaken day; the places in their hearts for those lost friends remained barren, empty and cold as the vacuum of space.

No one could ever replace them.

The immediate aftermath of the betrayal left the entire crew shell-shocked. Even seasoned soldiers like herself and Gallick couldn't escape the heavy feeling of loss.

Losing comrades never became easier. However, in the field the mission always came first. Always. Soldiers had a job to do. They had others to take care of and keep safe.

If they lost focus, if they let fear or sorrow consume them, they could doom a squad, a platoon or an entire operation.

Loss was an unavoidable aspect of a soldier's life. Even if they weren't a sister of your company, witnessing the death of an allied solider in war could not be avoided.

Losing friends, however, came with a far heavier burden. It could crush the toughest of veterans. It could leave them shells of their former selves or force them to be taken out of the field permanently.

In combat, fear was poison. Given a chance to spread, it would infect every soldier around them.

The N7 Talons balanced on that precarious edge after the betrayal. The former soldiers of the group could see the danger of their team falling apart approaching fast.

Anger and grief left to fester only led to more anger and grief. Friends would lash out. They would say things they didn't mean and, in their grief, inadvertently create an unfixable rift no bridge could cross.

The loss wounded them all. Left them internally bleeding, but it could not be allowed to destroy what they built.

The Setting Sun was their home, and the crew their family. The rest of the galaxy cared not for their existence. To them, they were oddities. Outcasts. Deserters. Traitors to so-called "noble causes" and "righteousness."

The Blue Suns could not be allowed to destroy their home.

Through it all, their veterans served as pillars of strength and guidance, keeping the team focused on the next fight as they each mourned in their own ways.

Tara preferred to mourn silently, offering prayers to the Goddess to guide their fallen friends safely to the next life. It wasn't her first time losing friends, but she planned to make it the last.

So far, she succeeded.

Ghost lost himself in the grief back then.

Defeated and broken by losing people he considered family, their leader retired to his cabin after he was certain they were safe. It was there he remained in silence for hours.

None of them knew what to do or say to help him. Truly, there was very little anyone could say or do in such a circumstance. Condolences and compassion had limitations. Gentle words could not heal a broken heart or bring back the people they lost.

Had she been Ghost's lover then, Tara would not have hesitated to enter his cabin to help him shoulder the grief and sorrow. But at the point they hadn't been in love, let alone in a serious relationship.

While they were closer than the familial bond Ghost formed with the others, it was hardly anything serious. Not love. Not even a fling.

Their flirts were playful and innocent. Sprinkled between them were serious words of endearment, but that was it. Nothing except innocent flirtation and hidden hopes.

Tara wanted more. Ghost's heart was purer than the light of the stars. He cared so deeply for the people close to him, always going out of his way to help them even if it was inconvenient. A great leader and a wonderful friend, Ghost knew how to keep his friends in high spirits with a joke and when to cast aside jests to show tender compassion.

But despite how she felt about him, to intrude upon his cabin after the young human lost people close to him seemed wrong to her mind.

Her heart, on the other hand, demanded her to stop waiting.

No one should ever have to carry the burden he was carrying alone. _Someone_ needed to be there for him.

Tara went to Darian first, asking him what he believed they should do. He was Ghost's best friend long before she ever met him, perhaps if he went up to…

"_I don't even know what I'd say," Darian said as he nursed an alcoholic beverage. "Normally I'd just drag him to a bar and drink him under the table, but…"_

"_Ghost doesn't drink," Tara said, frowning._

"_Yeah. Kind of shot a giant hole through my entire plan." Darian took a long drink then set his glass back down. "Spirits. What a fucking mess."_

Tara left him be after that. Meanwhile the internal battle between her heart and mind raged on without end.

_What would I even say?_

_Words don't matter. _

_But he needs guidance._

_No, he needs the comfort of a friend._

She paced a decent rut into the Engine Room floor while heart and mind battled.

Inevitably, _finally_, her heart won.

Moving only on her heart's instinct, she went up to his cabin.

Tara didn't know what to expect when she entered. Perhaps Ghost to order her to leave. Maybe he would be asleep and render the last several hours of arguing with herself pointless.

What she did find were his guns scattered across the floor in sequential order of how he ripped them off and tossed them.

Pieces of his armor continued the pattern, leaving behind a trail to follow all the way to his bed, where he laid at the bottom with his legs hanging over the edge. A forearm rested over his eyes, but it wasn't enough to stop the silent tears from falling.

Tara didn't need any other reason to stay. She would not let her leader and friend bear this burden alone.

Her decision to stay brought them closer together emotionally. He'd been knocked down so hard, but with her there to help shoulder the burden, he found the strength to stand once more.

As time passed they grew to love one another.

Their hearts and souls were sewn together for eternity, and after the galaxy calmed down they would settle down and have all the little blue children Ghost promised her before the end of the war.

_But first we deal with these terrorists._

The attack on Kasumi happened far too fast for them to react.

_Tactically speaking, the plan was well thought out_, Tara conceded.

They waited until Kasumi was away from the rest of the Normandy team to strike. Once alone, they used short-ranged jammers to prevent her and the civilians in the area from reporting the attack.

Without the N7 Talons timely arrival, Shepard wouldn't have found her being tended to in a hospital. She would have learned of her fate from a C-Sec homicide team.

_Thank the Goddess we prevented that tragedy._

Shepard had suffered far enough for the sake of the galaxy. Adding one more tragedy onto the list would be cruel of the Goddess.

What Ghost, Tara, Gallick Whitney and Darian found upon arriving at the scene set fire to the Asari, as it did to all her comrades. Kasumi barely hung to consciousness as she gripped a red rose in her hands. The men—if they could actually be called men—relentlessly assaulted her while yelling words Tara dared not repeat.

Their jeers, the bloodlust in their eyes, it was an unpleasant reminder of the scum mercenaries they fought against.

Men and women of varying species harming the hopeless and weak, sneering down at them as they inflicted pain upon them…

Goddess, she had forgotten why killing other mercenary groups satisfied her. Just thinking about them made her hands curl into tight fists.

When the innocent and weak needed protection from scum, the N7 Talons stepped in and took care of the problem. No doubt Archangel took a few cues from their reputation when he decided to fight for the people of Omega.

Their actions spread such a fierce reputation that the sight of their ship, their faces or their armor could send an entire platoon worth of mercenaries scrambling into panic. The men who attacked Kasumi were cut of the same cloth.

When they heard Ghost's roar and saw them sprinting into battle, they bolted. None of the cowards desired to fight them if they had a choice.

Tara, alongside her comrades, chased after the men while Ghost took Kasumi back to the hospital.

"_Bring me back their heads on pikes!"_

Ghost wasted his breath on that final order—they were all already planning to take the heads of these cowards.

Unfortunately the chase ended in failure. Of all the men who attacked Kasumi, only one had been captured. The others…the others blew themselves up at a refugee camp.

_Goddess…_ Tara shook her head in an effort to shake off the terrible knot of guilt and pain building in her chest. So many innocent civilians…all of them murdered by heartless terrorists.

Yet another tragedy after a war full of them.

When Ghost regrouped with them, he kept his own fiery anger at bay for her sake and Darian's, both sharing in the despondence over their failure. They were meant to be the best. They had saved so many people during the war, had pulled off impossible feats…but this time they failed.

This time when they were dealing with normal people and not Reapers, innocent people died. Good people who had survive the nightmare war, now dead when peace seemed within their grasps.

"_Don't blame yourself, Tara. None of us could have expected they had bombs. We'll wring what we need from this piece of shit and end the ones responsible,"_ Ghost reassured.

_"I know."_

They may have been caught off guard, but now they were locked, cocked and ready to kill.

_This one human will be enough._

Between Ghost and Shepard, this man was about to have a very bad day.

_One man is enough. He'll spill his guts under the pressure of both Ghost and Shepard to give us a clearer picture on what is going on._

Shepard had yet to arrive from gathering her crew, though Tara had no doubt she'd be arriving soon.

With the exception of Grissom and Valera, the rest of the N7 Talons waited patiently in the kitchen of her apartment. Grissom remained behind to help Doctor Chakwas heal Kasumi while Valera took on guard duty.

Nobody would get past a huntress bodyguard.

With their numbers, though, they could have easily spared more of their squad for guard duty. Two or three more of the squad would be able to keep every shadow of the hospital monitored, but there was a very serious reason for the entire squad coming here.

Tara looked away from their captive to her pacing lover. Rage rippled in every muscle fiber of his body. Searing purple eyes pierced through the shadow of his hood directly at their prisoner.

Ghost was a hungry Varren ready to be unleashed on the poor soul dangling above his cage.

The man she fell in love with was charming, compassionate, sarcastic and witty; happy and full of life, deadly to his enemies yet always calm of mind.

This pacing and furious version of him had always been a part of him—bright lights casted long shadows—but it had been a rare sight over the last ten years. Rare enough that there was an unspoken agreement between the entire crew to step in and stop him if he lost complete control of his temper.

Tara witnessed his uncontrolled rage only once. Once was enough. The image of Ghost covered from head to toe in blood, breathing heavily as his hands shook and the corpse of the puppeteer behind the Blue Suns betrayal laid dead at his feet was an image she'd never forget.

Darian kept shifting his weight from one foot to another, watching his friend and leader with an intense stare, almost as if he expected Ghost to let out a wordless scream and launch into a frenzy at any moment.

Spread out around the kitchen were Brad, Whitney, Gallick and Kar, each standing at the ready or glaring holes into the unconscious prisoner responsible for Ghost's state of emotion.

Carson sat off to the side on his omni-tool, eyes and fingers darting around as he sorted through all the information he had gathered. The amber eyed Turian was their information gathering specialist. If he wasn't so loyal to their crew and Ghost, Tara was certain the Shadow Broker would have hired him to help long ago.

Nothing could escape him once he started. His coordination in the pilot seat was only rivaled by his ability to sift through several layers of information without missing a single detail.

Carson would be fidgeting in his seat if he didn't have any information to sift through; he didn't do well with stress outside of the pilot seat.

By injuring Kasumi and bombing the refugee camp, the person or group responsible earned the attention of Ghost and Shepard—two people nobody should want the attention of.

How Shepard would react, Tara couldn't say with any degree of certainty. But she knew Ghost and how he would react if it was her in Kasumi's position.

Guilt, rage and sorrow would constantly be fighting for control, and if Ghost were to finally snap, it'd take all of them to hold him back. In a wild rage he had the strength of a few Krogan.

While she had biotic's that could restrain him, Tara was firmly against using them on friends. Darian, on the other hand, held no such reservations.

_I hope it doesn't have to come to that._

They needed this coward alive and cooperative. He could very well cut down the time it took them to find their real targets to an hour, thus preventing any future tragedy. To kill him now wouldn't solve anything, and the pleasant feeling would pass quickly. Killing him was probably what he wanted anyways.

His comrades were willing to die for their cause. He'd be no different.

Dying now meant he would escape true punishment for his actions. Death was too kind for him. Unfortunately, no Batarian prisons existed in the Sol System. But there were other ways to make him regret his actions. Other means to extract vengeance for the pain he caused.

As Ghost paced close to Darian, the Turian rested a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from continuing.

"Calm down, Ghost. Grissom said Kasumi would pull through," he reminded gently.

Ghost stilled and held his best friend's gaze for a few silent moments. No other words were spared between them, but they still held a long and thorough debate. Darian pleaded for him to see reason and refrain from simply inflicting pain when it wouldn't get them anywhere.

They needed to use their heads. They needed to take on a methodical approach to squeeze every drop of information out of this man.

What Ghost wanted…

"I know. Brad, see if there is a bucket we can fill up and a towel," Ghost ordered.

Ghost wanted to inflict torment on him.

Tara couldn't stand by and let it happen. She would _not_ let him fall into this darkness.

Jumping off the countertop she sat upon, the Asari stepped in front of Ghost, between him and his prey and held his intense purple gaze with unflinching resolve.

"No." Ghost's eyes narrowed at her tone.

Tara didn't back down, in fact it only furthered her resolve. Her dearest lover couldn't see beyond the rage and guilt. He couldn't see how it was affecting his decisions or how it was making him act. But she could get him to see. This time she could save his pure heart from the darkness.

"Love, I will not allow you to waterboard this prick, even if he deserves it." She rested her hands on his shoulders and stared deeply into his purple eyes, seeking out the light in him that she loved. "Don't do this, please," she pleaded, her voice a soft whisper among rolling thunder and cracking lightning.

_Don't lose yourself to the pain again_.

The hardened amethyst gems softened significantly.

"Not like it'd work on a bastard who would have blown himself up given the chance," Gallick stated. "Start by crushing his hand with that enforcement gauntlet I programmed for you."

_Really, Gallick?_ Tara nearly turned to ask the Batarian why he chose now of all times to instigate Ghost, but then she noticed Ghost's lips begin to twitch up into a smirk—the first smirk he had shown since finding Kasumi.

Sensing the monumental opening they had, Darian silently nodded for the others to jump into the banter as well. One smile was all they needed to get out of him. If that meant trying to one-up each other in how they would harm this man, so be it.

"Breaking his hand? Is that all you can think of Gallick? I was thinking of kneecapping him," Kar offered.

"Kneecapping? Seriously? Is that the best you can do, Kar? I'd tie his chair to something and hang him out over a balcony. That'd give me a punching bag other than Brad," Whitney teased while punching said man in the shoulder.

"Electrocution would be my way. Stick his feet in a bucket of water and have at him. More effective than your brute force approaches," Carson commented offhandedly.

Whitney's pointed stare set upon the pilot. "You calling me violent, Carson?" she questioned.

Carson mumbled quietly under his breath to avoid irking the hotheaded human further.

"Calling you violent is like calling Kar large. It's an understatement," Brad fired off.

"What are you saying, Brad? Because it sounds like you're saying I'm fat," Kar jumped in on the banter as well.

Ghost smiled.

_Mission successful._ Comradery and banter was the best medicine for their leader's fury.

"Well Kar, Boss and I didn't want to say it to you, but we've been thinking about widening your bed a little and getting stronger supports. It groans under your…mass and we're worried man. When you get your age you gotta watch out for your health," the human replied.

"Now you're saying I'm old _and_ unhealthy?" the Krogan quizzed.

"He's just saying that with age comes wisdom and we can't have that wisdom snuffed out because of a bad diet," Tara jumped in.

"Right, wisdom, like how to blast a thresher maw in the face at close range and live to tell the tale or how to head-butt somebody into submission," Brad tried, and failed, to amend his earlier insults.

Ghost finally chuckled. As the laughter blossomed, the tension in his body dissipated. "Brad, you are so going to pay for that later," he said.

"_Finally_," Whitney sighed aloud. "I thought Captain Brooding was going to stick around until we killed this prick."

Thankfully that wasn't the case. Ghost no longer appeared ready to snap at any moment, which meant they'd likely only have one loose cannon in the form of Shepard. Maybe. Tara couldn't doubt the possibility of Shepard's training as an N7 keeping her calm. Elite soldiers like her knew how to keep their emotions restrained.

"Sorry guys," their leader apologized.

"This wasn't your fault, Ghost. If we hadn't caught on we'd be looking at a far worse situation than the one we have," Gallick said.

Ghost nodded silently. It didn't get rid of the terrible knot, but it did make it more bearable. Hoping to offer more comfort, Tara wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced the man she loved. His arms wrapped around her and held her tightly.

"Captain, Shepard and her crew have just arrived," Carson stated.

"All right. Brad, find me that bucket. I'm not going to waterboard him," he quickly assured when Tara frowned up at him. "But it's time he woke up. I've been told a splash of water and a bucket to the head is a sure fire way to wake someone up."

The crew shared in smiles and amused snorts. That was definitely the Ghost they were more accustomed to.

"So I bet a thousand credits Shepard makes this guy shit his pants," Brad betted as he searched the kitchen cabinets for a bucket.

"A thousand Ghost breaks the guy before Shepard does," Gallick bet.

"Shepard," Carson jumped in.

"Ghost," Tara said, planting a kiss on his cheek before stepping away.

Tara held no doubt Shepard's presence would speed everything up, but it would be Ghost's actions that would lead to the man giving up information.

"Sorry Ghost, but I'm going to say Shepard," Darian put his credits in.

"Traitor," Ghost responded, brandishing his smirk.

"Whitney?" Brad asked as he pulled out a bucket and put it in the sink.

"Tough one. On one hand I want to say Ghost because I've seen him break a lot of people using words. On the other hand you have Shepard who has had her lover put into the hospital and a refugee camp destroyed afterwards. Hell hath no fury like a woman or a lover scorned," Whitney said.

Brad whispered "Amen" under his breath.

Considering how many times Whitney kicked his ass, Tara wasn't surprised he chose to agree under his breath. Angering Whitney rarely ended well for him.

"Too risky to bet if you ask me. Pyjak usually does it, but Shepard being involved makes it a tough bet. Count me out," Kar backed out.

"Yeah I'm out on this one too. You five have fun," Whitney said.

* * *

_"And those who chose to do this will be dead by the end of the day."_

Miranda's comforting words to Jack weren't an empty consolation to keep her focused. No, it was a solemn promise she swore to make reality. If the perpetrators of this attack believed they would not face judgement for harming Kasumi and bombing a refugee camp, they were poorly mistaken.

By the days end they would understand one truth: Targeting the heart of Commander Anastasia Shepard was their first and last mistake.

Shepard's peaceful sky blue eyes no longer were clear skies. Massive cumulonimbus clouds had gathered together. Flashes of lightning illuminated the dark backdrop of anger as the storm continued to swell.

Miranda could only recall a handful of occasions where the atmosphere around Shepard shifted towards such…darkness. Project Overlord caused one such incident.

The usually calm paragon of everything good could not turn a blind eye to what Cerberus had done to David Archer. She could not restrain the disgust and vehement rage for what Gavin Archer had done to his younger brother.

_"I saw his memories! He begged you not to do this!"_

The pair heatedly debated what he had done until Shepard finally decided to get David out of the contraption.

_ "No! Leave him! He's too valuable!" Gavin demanded, pulling a gun on Shepard._

_ Even at a distance Miranda noticed something snap in Shepard at that very moment. Not only had Gavin done something so unforgivable to his brother, but now he was speaking of his brother as a tool. A __**thing**__ to be used while he was valuable._

_ Gavin's round ricocheted off a powerful biotic barrier Shepard summoned, and then all of that anger and biotic power was unleashed on him._

_A lashing aura of power swirled around her as she gripped the man with her biotics, forcing him to fly straight towards her and into a biotic fist._

_Archer flew away a few feet, slamming hard against the cold floor, face immediately bloodied with likely a fractured bone in his jaw._

_Shepard didn't give him breathing room. She stormed forward, planted her hard knee in his gut and pistol whipped the man before pointing her pistol right at his forehead._

_ "I swear, you even think about coming after your brother and this bullet will be waiting for you! Then we'll see who's __**valuable**__." She spat the word, disgusted by the use of it for another human being. "You're going to help us get your brother down without hurting him and you're going to do it now. If I even suspect you are hurting him more, I will fucking kill you."_

The fear Gavin Archer felt that day and the wounds he sustained were nothing compared to the nightmare he created.

_I hope he still lives in fear of her._

Whoever decided to stir this emotion in Shepard didn't understand who they were dealing with. They practically guaranteed their end. The redhead rarely allowed anything to become personal, but to leave Kasumi in critical condition and blow up a refugee camp…

_Shepard won't show them mercy._

Besides Jack and Miranda, those who joined the mission were James, Kaiden, Garrus, Tali, EDI, Liara, Javik and Grunt. Wrex, Samara, Jacob and Zaeed were elsewhere, busy helping the relief effort, their people or spending time with their lover, in the case of Jacob.

According to EDI and Liara, ten people died in the bombing, thirty were on knifes edge between life and death and another fifty had wounds between critical and minor.

None of them had guaranteed survival, save a few of the minor injuries.

This thoughtless attack, this…atrocity could not and would not go unpunished. Targeting Kasumi made it personal. Killing refugees of the Reaper War was salt in a _very_ raw wound for Shepard.

Everything she sacrificed, everything she suffered to be the hero people looked to for hope, all of it so _others_ could live in peace. Not her.

"_When I fired the Crucible…I thought I had reached the end of my path in this life. I was content knowing I had given everything I had to give all of you a brighter future without the Reapers."_

Shepard succeeded in giving them that chance for a bright future.

The people responsible for the attack could not be allowed to snuff it out, not when they were all starting to find their feet.

Miranda had been theorizing who could be responsible ever since seeing the news with Kahlee Sanders. Humans attacking humans eliminated the possibility of it being splintered relations between their species and the aliens.

The bombs couldn't have been acquired by an average angry civilian. Too many military personnel and C-Sec guarded the armories.

It could be a rogue soldier or C-Sec officer, but Miranda doubted it. The majority of soldiers and officers were united by their leaders—Commander Bailey, Primarch Victus, Wrex and Admiral Hackett to name a few—which made it unlikely they'd pull a stunt like this when things seemed to be on an upward trend.

Mercenaries were a possibility, but also unlikely due to Aria keeping them under control. The Pirate Queen kept them all in line so far; no one wanted to get out of the Sol System and away from the Citadel more than the mercenaries. That left extremist anti-human groups and Cerberus.

_But why would Cerberus attack a human refugee camp?_

It wasn't logical. Cerberus no longer presented itself as a shield or sword of humanity; it had been the dagger in their back throughout the war. Yet even then the Illusive Man worked towards his insane goal of controlling the Reapers.

Every target he hit had his objective in mind. Mars, the Cerberus coup, the bomb on Tuchanka, Grissom Academy, Thessia, Sanctuary, every target worked towards his final objective.

This attack, however, didn't seem to be anything more than collateral damage. If they wanted to create distrust between humans and aliens or act to eliminate the aliens when they appeared weak, why attack humans?

If they wanted to splinter the alliance Shepard created, the logical plan would be to attack the aliens. "Prove" to the galactic community that cooperation was impossible by targeting the other species.

Miranda bit the inside of her bottom lip. _Either Cerberus isn't responsible, or they have lost all sense of direction._

She wasn't sure which one worried her more.

For all the Illusive Man's flaws and terrible choices at the end of the war, he provided direction to the Cells under his command. There were the few who went against orders and acted as purely xenophobic terrorists, but those who jeopardized his cause were dealt with accordingly, like her.

Without a leader to guide them, would Cerberus attack anyone they wanted to prove some sort of dominance? Or were they trying to spread fear?

_I'd almost feel safer knowing the Illusive Man was still in charge._

Hyperbole, of course. The galaxy was better off without his presence.

"Shepard, you're sure we can trust this guy and his crew?" Garrus asked.

The worry was understandable. None of them, except Jack and Shepard, knew the N7 Talons. And the last time they invited a stranger to join them they ended up having to fight a clone of Shepard as the Normandy was nearly stolen. _Not to mention being locked away in iridium vaults._

"Don't worry about him, Garrus. Ghost and his guys are good people," Jack spoke up.

Her reassurance did ease some of the tension. Jack didn't give trust away freely. If these people had earned it, then trusting them was probably a safe bet.

"Ghost doesn't betray his friends, and he's known Kasumi longer than any of us," Liara added.

Miranda raised a curious eyebrow at Liara's familiarity with the man but said nothing. She supposed she couldn't be surprised; Liara was the Shadow Broker after all. With her networks, the raven-haired woman wouldn't be surprised if she actually knew his real identity.

"I'm more worried that he's been alone with one of the men from the attacks in your apartment, Shepard. He may have left a huge mess."

"Messes can be cleaned. I just want to know who the hell is behind this all. Did Glyph get anything from the information he sent through?" Shepard asked.

"We have names of the people at the refugee camp and those who bombed it, but we're still trying to piece together how they all connect," Liara answered.

The group exited the elevator and entered the apartment.

_Empty?_ Miranda scanned the area carefully, finding no sight of any of the N7 Talons in the living area or a mess for that matter. Everything in the apartment stood untouched.

As they moved further into the apartment, Miranda's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of movement and conversation coming from the kitchen. Sure enough, they found a large squad of strangers sitting in the kitchen, the leader of which stood on the opposite end next to an unconscious man tied to a chair.

One Asari with red markings, two Turian's, a Batarian, Krogan and three humans simultaneously noticed their entry. Each of them were fully armed and wearing their combat armor.

_Impressive weaponry_, she noted. They look prepared to take on an entire battalion on their own, and looked like they'd make mincemeat of them. _Well, they are the first cross-species N7 team, and war-heroes on top of that._

From what she had heard from Jack and seen on the news herself, the current squad Ghost had with him consisted of Gallick, Urdnot Kar, Tara, Carson and Darian. The two other humans, however, she did not know.

The woman of the pair sat on the counter closest to where they entered. Her skin was tan and eyes brown, though the spirit in her eyes easily matched her fiery crimson hair. The crown of her hair was tied back in a French braid while the rest flowed down naturally.

Whoever she was, she carried herself with a take-no-bullshit-from-anyone attitude, but there was also an honest respect for Shepard and her leader.

The man of the pair had short, spiky brown-hair and green eyes. His complexion was quite fair, and excluding the Turian's and Krogan he was without a doubt the tallest of the group.

One look at him revealed an air of cocky arrogance, the kind that started fights for no reason other than personal enjoyment.

The human equivalent of a Krogan.

"Ah, welcome," Ghost greeted the group casually. "I was about to start the party without all of you." His eyes drifted to Jack and Liara. "Jack, Liara." Ghost nodded in greeting to them both.

Both women nodded back.

"Brad and Whitney I presume?" Shepard asked.

The man, Brad, let his lips curl up into a smirk. "So my charming good looks have stretched by word of mouth even to the Normandy crew," he boasted.

"You wish, idiot," Whitney chastised with a roll of her eyes. "We're the only two aside from Val she hasn't met. Try using that tiny brain of yours."

"Everyone sensing sexual tension please raise your hand," Ghost said as he raised his own hand.

All of Ghost's squad—exception of the two—raised their hands immediately. Miranda didn't bother to fight her smile as she and the rest of the Normandy team raised their hands as well.

Defeated, Whitney and Brad lowered their heads and heaved deep sighs.

An elbow jabbed her side and made Miranda turn to look at Tali, her eyes gleaming behind her mask as always yet she sensed amusement from her body language.

"Guess every crew has two people with sexual tension," she teased loud enough for everyone to hear.

Miranda frowned and lowered her hand. She really should have seen that coming.

"Seriously, Tali? You too?" Jack grumbled.

"Why am I not surprised that came back at us?" Miranda muttered.

"So Shepard, I see you've noticed my wakeup call," Ghost suddenly spoke up. Turning back to the task at hand, Miranda noticed a predatory smirk curled onto his lips. "Does this mean we're ready to start?"

"Wakeup call?" Garrus asked.

Ghost nodded and grabbed the bucket before stepping in front of the unconscious man. Sloshing water came from within, simultaneously intriguing and confusing Miranda.

_What are you planning to do?_

"Right, give the word and sleeping beauty here gets to wake up for the ball." He looked over to the Turian working on his omni-tool. "Carson, you should move your work over to Liara and EDI. Sooner you three get everything sorted out, the better."

"Aye aye, Captain."

Liara and EDI departed from the room with Carson to seek out the masterminds behind the plot. With them gone, Ghost brought the bucket back in an effort to toss the water, but then stopped.

"By the way, pleasure to meet the lot of you. Doubt you want me going on some spiel about you being legends, but truly we're honored even if we don't look the part," he said, gaining nods of agreement from his crew.

"I take it you know how the whole clone thing went down?" Shepard asked.

All of the Talons nodded but Ghost was the one to speak up. "Yeah, the Old Man briefed us on the basics to make sure we understood if you all told us to, in a few words, screw off. Now that we've got introductions and all that other nonsense dealt with, let's find out what he knows."

He brought the bucket back then forward, the momentum of the movement dumping out the entire bucket of icy water onto the unconscious man. "Oi!" Ghost yelled as he swung the bucket back then smashed it into the radical's head. "Wake up, you sorry bastard!"

_Well, definitely not what I expected._ An unconventional way to wake someone up, for certain.

"Fuck. You," the radical growled before sitting himself back up.

"Not very polite is he," Darian stated.

"Should I amend my own manners?" Ghost asked innocently.

He received a sharp nod from his Turian second-in-command. Without hesitation, the purple eyed N7 slammed his fist into the man's hand, likely fracturing a bone or two on their prisoner if the grunt and wince of pain were anything to go by.

_Definitely unconventional._

"I think we're on the same page. Now Shepard, if you'd care to join me over here, I would like to go over something with this foolish foolish man who decided it would be a good idea to hurt people we care about."

Hesitantly, Shepard walked over to his side while the rest of the crew spread out around the kitchen and nearby areas to watch the interrogation.

Miranda could empathize with her caution.

This man, Ghost, he carried himself with an aloof air, yet there was something inherently dangerous about him, and not because of the weapons he wielded. He didn't play by anyone's rules except his own, she could tell that in the few short interactions she witnessed so far.

What he had planned for the prisoner, she couldn't say. But what she did know with absolute certainty was it didn't bode well for him.

Ghost crouched down next to the radical. "You're buddies killed and hurt a lot of people at the refugee camp," he said, voice devoid of the previous lightness. Deadly. To the point. Each word disturbed the silence like a gunshot in a library. "You also took part in hurting a very dear friend of mine before they did. More importantly, you hurt her lover." He nodded to Shepard.

The redhead lifted her hands up and proceeded to crack her knuckles, no doubt glaring into the man's soul with those sharpened blue eyes. "I don't know who you're working for yet, but I will find them and kill them," she warned.

Ghost patted his forearm and stood back up to his full height. "You, on the other hand, have a choice. You see," he pointed to himself, "I'm a man who believes in second chances."

The lightness was back.

"I'm no stranger to crime. Hell, I was a Blue Sun for years and killed people because they wore different color armor than me. But here I am today, leader of these brave men and women and part of the Alliance."

The words alone made his crew stand and sit taller in pride. Honestly, it reminded Miranda of how Shepard could fill them with pride from a few well-placed encouraging words.

Without a doubt, Ghost and Shepard shared the same spark to make the people around them believe in the impossible. And to them their crew wasn't just uniforms to order around—they were a family.

A family they would protect with their lives if they had to.

"I personally don't know you or why you did what you did. Maybe you have a family and it was the only way to support them, or maybe you were lost and needed a cause to believe in so you joined up with Cerberus or Terra Firma."

The radical flinched at the second name and a smirk made its way to Ghost's lips. "So it is those bastards. Carson! Search for anything of relevance to Terra Firma!"

"Impressive human," Javik complimented.

Miranda couldn't agree more. The ice bucket, the blows he landed, even his words were used to soften the man up. Once he was off guard and small amounts of fear took hold, the deadly poison spread throughout his system and made him vulnerable to every verbal and mental strike Ghost hit him with.

_He can't be a Cerberus agent._ No, Cerberus vetted their agents and trained them to withstand such simple tactics. This man was either green as grass or had more self-preservation than most Cerberus agents.

"I'm also a fan of multiple choice on a timer, so here's what we're going to do: I'll give you three choices for how this can go down and you get to pick one," Ghost finished.

"I love this part," Kar said, the amusement in his voice prevalent and frightening.

Krogan excitement spelt extreme danger on the horizon for the radical.

_Multiple choice on a timer?_ It sounded like some foolish children's game, but then why did she feel so tense about it?

"You can either A: tell us everything we want to know right here and now. But be careful, because if you give us false information—that we will check while you're here—we have to play pin the knife on the radical," Ghost explained the first option like he was explaining what was on the menu at a diner.

_Pin the knife on the radical. How…quaint._

Had this man been innocent, she would have felt terrible for his capture by these former mercenaries. At this point, however, Miranda didn't care if they actually did have to play their twisted version of a child's game. She also felt a hint of morbid curiosity to how much worse the next options might get.

"Oh! I call first if that's the case!" Brad exclaimed. "I won this nice Turian serrated ceremonial dagger in a game of poker and I never got the chance to test it out on a live target during the war."

"I'll show you the ancient torture techniques my ancestors used with those blades, Brad. They had ways of carving out pain like you humans could never imagine," Darian said, his piercing eyes never once leaving the man in the chair.

To his credit, the radical tried to appear defiant to their plans, but fear is a poison. Once it enters your bloodstream, without an antidote you can only hope your body can fend it off. Otherwise you fall victim to it, as this man was doing now.

He knew he was at their mercy. Without taking option A with complete truth, the chances he walked away unscathed were zero.

"Not jumping at the chance for option A? All right, I'll go over your other two options then. For B you get to face me. We'll go over your chances of survival, how much pain an average human can take before they give in, which I'll have you know I wrote my dissertation on in college. And then see where you land on the scale," Ghost explained, patting the man on the shoulder as he walked by him.

"Love, you didn't go to college. You experimented on live mercenaries who had wronged you and found out that they would tell you anything once you cut off a hand, even if it wasn't true," Tara reminded, a sweetness in her voice that betrayed the morbid topic.

"If that's the case then I say let Gallick and I have some fun, Pyjak," Kar bellowed. He shifted his neck side to side, earning two loud cracks before grinning evilly at the human. "We can pass on our knowledge to you so you can get one of those fancy diplomas you humans always talk about. Right Gallick?"

"Might take a few days, but it'd do the kid good to earn his Doctorate from us."

Fear gripped the man further. His body couldn't handle the poison much longer, not when these men speaking of his eventual torture seemed crazier than his friends.

_One or two more pushes and he'll cave._ Miranda silently applauded Ghost's tactics. Unconventional as they were, they certainly showed promise in this situation.

"Still not taking option A? I sincerely hope you don't expect C to be better, 'cause it's not. If you chose C, I take a walk and let Red here," he motioned to Shepard with a dip of his head, "know all the nasty things you said when you were stomping her dear lover."

The radical's eyes bulged in fear. Shepard's entire body tensed, as if a jolt of electricity just shot through her. It wasn't electricity, though. It was rage. Pure rage at what this man might have said while hurting Kasumi.

"Just remember, I've taken away your cyanide pills and your ocular flashbang, so screwed doesn't even cut it when it comes to your situation. And if that doesn't suit your fancy, I'll give you an option D, D as in doom mind you. In option D I let the Prothean, who can make you squeal in ways unimaginable, destroy your mind in the most painful ways possible," Ghost said.

"Hmm, I'm beginning to like this 'Ghost' human," Javik said.

Shepard didn't seem to even hear option D. She turned to Ghost, the anger in her heart swelling to Reaper sized proportions. "What did he say?" she seethed.

Ghost rested a hand on her shoulder. "Now don't get ahead of me, Shepard. He still gets a choice, and with five seconds on the clock what's it going to be? A, B, C, or D?"

His crew began clicking their tongues to imitate a timer until Ghost slammed his fist into the same hand he broke.

"C it is!" he exclaimed in a happy tone.

"No! No! I'll tell you anything!" the radical pleaded.

Ghost tsked the man, wagging his finger as he did. "Ah ah, that's the problem. You'll tell me _anything_. I don't want _anything_, I want specifics." He shrugged helplessly and sighed. "But I know you'll just lie to me, which is so unfortunate for you. Shepard." The purple eyed man looked back to Shepard with a grin. "Did you know that butterballs here told his buddies that—"

"Elias Kelham!" the radical shouted in fear.

And there it was. The answer they had all been waiting for. The entire room fell silent as the name sunk into all of the Suicide Mission squad members.

"Holy shit," Jack muttered in shock.

Elias Kelham: the man who hired Kolyat Krios, Thane Krios's son, to kill an openly anti-human Turian politician. Miranda remembered reading the mission report and filing it away. Shepard and Thane had to interrogate Elias Kelham to get the information on the target, during which the redhead played the role of "bad cop" as some called it.

During the interrogation, she had hit the man upwards to three times, hard enough to draw blood before threatening to "cut his balls off and sell them to a Krogan" if she recalled correctly.

Yet…something didn't add up. Elias Kelham was a criminal by all definitions of the word, but a terrorist? To bomb a refugee camp?

_No_, Miranda shook her head, _he can't be the mastermind behind this. Revenge against Shepard by targeting Kasumi I don't doubt, but the rest?_

Someone else had to be pulling the strings.

"Don't know what that name means, but I do remember you saying that you should all rape Kasumi just to send Shepard a message," Ghost finished anyways.

"Motherfucker!" Jack hissed as practically everyone gasped.

Miranda quickly latched a hand to her bicep to stop her from stomping in. She met the furious brown eyes head-on. "Let Shepard handle it," she whispered.

Not a second later, biotic's flared around Shepard and quickly began to swirl violently around her with every second to pass.

The sight was enough to get Jack to stand down, but Miranda felt no relaxation. What Ghost had just awoken in Shepard…this could end very badly.

"After you Shepard," Ghost motioned for her to approach him.

She strode forward quickly as the man tried to struggle to break free and back away.

He went nowhere.

Shepard's hand shot forward, gripping the man's balls firmly and forcing him to whimper in pain. "How about I pop those balls you're so proud of? I would sell them to a Krogan but they no longer need them and you clearly should have had them cut off long ago," the redhead whispered, her deadly tone striking even more fear into this so-called man.

Critical whistles came from most of Ghost's crew at the sight of her quiet rage. Their leader found his way to her side as Shepard undoubtedly used her biotic's to pressure the man's testicles.

How did Miranda know that?

The audible sounds of pain and agony etched into his face made it obvious.

"Elias Kelham what?" Ghost prodded, again disposing of the light voice for seriousness.

"He- he was the one I was told to rat out if I- I was caught. The same went fo- for the others!" He stopped himself short after confirming Miranda's belief.

Kelham wasn't the mastermind. He was just a tool for someone else. But who?

Shepard didn't let go. The intensity of her flared biotic's grew, and with them the man's screams of pain reached a greater crescendo. "Arrgh! Arggh! Fu- fuck! He supplied the equipment, the bombs, the location of your squadmate and the jammers! Grr! We didn't want anything tied back to us!" the radical struggled to explain.

"Terra Firma you mean," Ghost said thoughtfully while he was piecing together the puzzle. "Why that specific refugee camp and Kasumi?"

The man didn't answer immediately. Again he played the foolish game of defiance.

Shepard made him regret it.

A small biotic shockwave pulsed through him, ripping a scream of pain out of his throat.

"If you don't answer his question, I'll warp your balls into dust. Got that?" she hissed.

"Go to hell!"

Miranda's eyebrows shot skyward at his audacity. She could almost feel Shepard's glare set into the man, burning through the remaining armor he had left so she could make his soul cower in fear as well.

A noticeable shift of the swirling biotic's caught Miranda's attention. It was small, but it appeared Shepard was using them to twist his testicles further.

Agonizing screams followed but she didn't retract her hand. Not until he realized she had no mercy left for a man as disgusting as him. Tears welled in his eyes and dared to fall from a previously unimaginable pain turned reality.

"I'll say this one last time: Answer. The. Question."

His angry and tearful eyes locked onto her searing sky blue eyes. "She's your lover, that's why! Kelham wanted to get back at you for the shit you did in the interrogation. The camp was nothing but trying to make sure we weren't caught."

Shepard tensed up visibly at his explanation to why Kasumi was the first target. Guilt, the effect of it was instantaneous on the Commander.

Before another word could be spoken, Liara, EDI, Carson and Glyph entered the kitchen again. "He is lying about the camp, poorly I might add," Liara said.

"Fuck you," he breathed out another curse.

Ghost rested his hand on Shepard's arm and met her eyes with a sympathetic look on his face. "You can release his balls now. I don't think either of us wants to clean up that mess."

Shepard struggled momentarily to listen to his words. Every part of her probably screamed to destroy this man, but the redheaded hero wasn't seen as a virtuous paragon for no reason. She released him and let her biotic's fade away.

The weight in her shoulders, however, did not fade.

_Anastasia…_

"Do we need him?" Ghost asked to Liara.

The Shadow Broker smiled. "No. Thanks to his slip up on Terra Firma and Elias Kelham we were able to get all the information we needed."

"All right. Kar, Gallick, you two knock him out and get him prepped to be given to C-Sec. Normally I would say send him to a Batarian prison for the shit he did, but seeing as finding one in the Sol System is impossible, C-Sec will do."

Kar knocked the man out with a single punch to the temple then, together with Gallick, they dragged his chair out of the kitchen.

"You okay Shepard?" Garrus asked caringly.

"Yeah. What have we got?"

No one believed her, but they understood. Shepard was a soldier first. Emotions came last, and the person best suited for helping her with them was in the hospital.

"Does the name Charles Saracino ring a bell?" Liara asked.

Not for the Suicide Mission team, but the SR-1 members did notice it.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kaiden said, his voice relaying the shock they all felt.

"Who are Elias Kelham and Charles Saracino?" Darian asked.

"Saracino is the head of the Terra Firma party. I met him on the Citadel when they impounded the Normandy years ago, right after we lost Ash," Shepard said with a shake of her head.

_Terra Firma?_ Why would the head of the Terra Firma party attack humans? What was really going on here?

"Kelham on the other hand is a criminal who once hired the son of our friend Thane to kill Joram Talid, a Turian politician who was running as openly anti-human. I threatened to cut his balls of and sell them to a Krogan to get him to tell us who he wanted dead."

Oh, so she did remember that correctly.

"I thought Bailey had Kelham locked up," Tali said thoughtfully.

As did everyone else. How he managed to get his hands on so many explosives without anyone noticing was strange and worrying.

"Okay, so we've got the head of Terra Firma and a criminal working together to attack Kasumi and a refugee camp. Why?" Shepard asked to Liara, Carson and EDI.

"First off, let's move this conversation to the big room out there. It's cramped in here and I've got to clean up the mess I made," Ghost said motioning to the puddle they were both stepping in.

Shepard didn't argue. She nodded mutely and left in search of towels.

Miranda just hoped these two would be the last ghosts to haunt them.

If not, could any of them ever truly find their normal?


	16. Chapter 16: The Final Mistake

Chapter 16

The Final Mistake

_The conclusion of the Reaper War was nearly upon the Milky Way. Although the battles may very well continue for months or even years beyond today, the true, conclusive winner would be decided in the coming hour._

_Should the Crucible be destroyed, the Reapers would be hailed as the ultimate winners of this war._

_Should the Crucible not fire, the hopes for their cycle conquering the nightmare war would be incinerated into ash and be left for the next cycle to ponder on._

_But…if they did successfully fire the Crucible, if this super weapon worked as intended and destroyed the Reapers then the tides of war would change instantly; their cycle would claim victory and witness tomorrow's glorious sunrise on a Reaper-less Earth._

_ Tara felt the nerves produced by their high stakes gambit now more than ever, every soldier did, but Huntress training kept her nerves at bay._

_She already prayed to the Goddess, asking not to spare her life, but to spare the lives of all those she cared for by ending the Reaper menace. Now she stood at the ready in the Natural History Museum for the coming battle._

_Whatever fate awaited her, she would fight to protect those she loved until her last breath._

_ "Tara."_

_The sound of her lover's voice drew the Asari's attention away from the currently empty battlefield. Only a few Husks scampered through the abandoned street since they arrived, and a well-placed round ended them without incident. She could only assume the enemy was gathering a large force before making another push on the base._

_Ghost approached with troubled purple eyes. She smiled softly at her lover, hoping to ease even a small fragment of his worries. "You okay?" he asked._

_ She would need to ask him the same question in a moment, but for now…_

_ "The end of the war will be decided in the next hour," she answered, turning her head away to look back at the war-torn city._

_Bullet littered walls, caved in buildings, charred asphalt and destroyed vehicles surrounded them. Time would not be enough to heal the scars left behind on the galaxy._

"_I am ready for the fight, for whatever end it may bring…yet I cannot deny the fears in my heart. Should the Crucible fail…"_

_ Her lifespan guaranteed the possibility of witnessing the end of every current civilization. Should she survive long enough, she could see everyone she loved die until only she remained. _

"_It won't fail," Ghost stated firmly. He joined her in looking out at the field of battle where their final fight would take place. "It's going to send these bastards to hell and then the galaxy is finally going to wake up from this nightmare." Ghost wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her into an embrace. "We're going to be fine, I promise."_

_ Tara nuzzled into his armored chest and held onto him tightly. "My heart will always belong to you, Love," she whispered._

_ Ghost exhaled a shuddered breath as his arms tightened around her. "…I've tried to make light of it a lot since this shitstorm started, but I want you to know that…if I survive this war, what I want most is to find peace away from all this endless fighting. No more wars, no more fights, no more violence. Just…peace. And I want to share that with you."_

_Tara loosened her hold to look up and meet Ghost's eyes. "All the jokes about settling down to have a horde of little blue babies…it doesn't have to be a horde, but I'd love to start a family with you."_

_ Her heart could barely take it. Tears welled in her eyes; she fought to keep them from falling as she smiled up at her lover. "What if I want the horde?"_

_ A smile curled onto his lips. "Then a horde you will have, my love." He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. "My heart, my soul, my love and what time I have in this galaxy are yours. Forever. And whenever that time is up…"_

_Ghost's voice broke and Tara slammed her eyes shut as tears escaped her. "Promise me you won't stop living life, because if I check in on you and find you miserable, I'm going to start using my powers as a spirit to scare the living hell out of you."_

_ "You asshole," Tara scolded, exhaling a shaky laugh with it before crashing her lips against Ghost's in a tearful kiss._

"_You're not going anywhere. Not today or tomorrow or years from now. Not until we find our peace and you give me my horde," she told him._

_ Ghost embraced her tightly. "I love you, Tara."_

_ "And I love you more."_

* * *

Tara shut down her omni-tool and looked around at the occupants of Shepard's apartment. Some were seated on the furniture. Others bustled around as they tried to finish the final touches on the plan to take down Kelham and Saracino.

Of all the N7 Talons who entered Shepard's apartment, only Tara, Darian, Carson and Ghost remained behind to team with Shepard's squad.

There was no way to know if Terra Firma planned to attack one of the other members of Shepard's team who weren't here in the apartment. On the chance they did attack, though, they wanted to be ready; thus Whitney, Brad, Gallick and Kar departed to provide extra firepower to Samara, Zaeed, Jacob and Wrex.

Calling everyone back to the apartment was too dangerous. Terra Firma clearly had a plan of some sort, likely one that would eliminate Shepard's team from the picture.

To bring the N7 Talons and Normandy team under one roof wasn't ideal. The apartment, while comfortably spacious, lacked real cover in the main room—unless you counted the few couches and walls. Terra Firma could attack them at any moment here, and having two large squads trying to squeeze together behind lackluster cover could be disastrous for them.

Another initial problem was the lack of firepower for the Normandy team, though that distinct disadvantage already had a remedy. Commander Shepard, they learned, converted one of her upstairs rooms into a small armory after being caught off-guard by her Clone's mercenaries at a sushi restaurant.

What likely seemed a paranoid decision before proved to be a wise decision today.

There was no armor for the team to equip but she did store enough weapons to earn a whistle of approval from Ghost.

All they needed to do now was bring down Saracino and Kelham, though that wouldn't be easy by any means. The mess in front of them was accurately summarized by Ghost as a political shitstorm.

Saracino left scarce evidence to his involvement in the bombing of the refugee camp, and Kelham already disappeared without a trace. Tracking the bombs back to Kelham wasn't the hard part. In fact, it was quite strange he even accepted the job considering how everything pointed back to him.

Was handicapping or killing Kasumi truly worth that price to him? Or was he unaware of what his bombs would be used for? _We won't know until we capture him._

C-Sec lacked any leads for them to follow, unfortunately. They were spread too thinly to track him when he escaped custody. Before this he hadn't been high on the priority list of problems.

Now he was, and he would regret that.

While Carson and EDI worked together to find him, Liara, Ghost and Glyph worked to solve the Saracino problem.

Kelham had his names written on everything, Saracino didn't. All they had connecting him and Terra Firma to the act was the…_testimony_ of one of the terrorists. That wasn't enough, not if they wanted to put Terra Firma and Saracino down for good. Even with two Spectres and a squad of N7's vowing for the information, the interrogation they performed wouldn't hold up in any court.

Politicians and politics muddled everything; Tara had seen it happen time and again during her time in the Asari military and after. Someone somewhere with money or power would pull a few strings, line a few purses with credits and everything they fought for would be swept under the rug, forgotten and ignored as their reputations were fractured by politics.

Gallick knew that reality better than anyone.

Terra Firma being a political party for humans added more problems to their situation. Earth, like the other homeworlds, took the brunt of the Reapers invasion. Major cities were laid waste to; many of the politicians who helped unite the resistance on Earth were dead or missing in action. The Alliance remained relatively strong, but their numbers had taken a blow during the war and final push.

Terra Firma saw this as their opportunity to seize the power of humanity just as Councilor Udina had. This was their chance to spread their "humanity first" and "stand alone" ideas and fracture the bonds forged in war.

By taking down Saracino, they risked other humans like him pointing a finger at them on the claims of seeking to weaken humanity.

_If we do nothing, they could gain power and start a war. If we take him down without sufficient evidence, more like him might copy his terrorist attacks and another war could start._

The whole situation was steeped in no-win situations and double-edged swords.

Even if they did connect Saracino and bring him down, they still had the problem of stripping all power from Terra Firma. Their political connections, their power, their funding, all of it needed to be destroyed in one swift move when they took Saracino down. If not, Tara feared what they could become in the near and distant future.

_Ghost understated the situation again_, she mused. _Political shitstorm isn't adequate enough for our situation._

Saracino held the entire deck in his favor right now. According to the information they found, his political competition died in the bombing along with the person investigating him for connections to Cerberus. As everyone cried for vengeance against Cerberus, he could play the hero and gain further political clout.

Truly, it disgusted Tara immensely. This sick game of politics and power, she despised it so much. Lives were seen as mere statistics, and terrible weapons were seen as justified means to ends so long as they were in the "right" hands.

_Tch, right hands. Who are any of us to decide such things?_

All hope was not lost. Miranda Lawson and Liara did find a solution for part of the problem. During the war, Shepard brought an investigative reporter by the name of Diana Allers onto her ship. Her neutral status and the hard questions she pointed at the Commander during all of her interviews gave her credibility they desperately needed to turn everyone against Terra Firma.

With that decided, James Vega left to collect the reporter while Spectre Kaiden Alenko departed to join Valera in guarding Kasumi. On the chance Terra Firma attacked Huerta Memorial directly Valera and Grissom could use an extra gun and the impressive biotics of the L2 to protect the civilians.

For now patience was crucial as they waited for their information gatherers to connect the final pieces of the puzzle. Tara used the time given to her to contact Grissom and her sister to update them on the situation and check on Kasumi's recovery.

Although she personally did worry about their friend, it wasn't for her own sake she asked after her condition—it was for Shepard's.

Ever since the interrogation reached its conclusion, Shepard shelled up, becoming the soldier rather than the woman. When it was clear her skills weren't needed yet, she distanced herself from the crew to stand alone at one of the big picture windows.

Currently she was leaning her weight onto the forearm she braced against the window, a knot between her eyebrows formed by the deep and dark thoughts she couldn't escape from.

Tension could be seen in her body language even underneath her N7 hoodie and behind the mask every soldier learned to wear when emotions couldn't be allowed to impair judgement.

Guilt and blame consumed her. Questions of how many more attacks and how far Terra Firma might go to achieve their goals clouded her mind. Fears for Kasumi's fate created aches in her heart no salve could ease.

Tara did not need to hear her thoughts to know what her heart felt. The love she witnessed between Kasumi and Shepard during their casino date was as strong and pure as her own love for Ghost. They had dreams for the future they may or may not have told one another yet, dreams Shepard now feared could be stolen from her.

Everyone with eyesight could see how deeply the redhead cared for the thief; how she wanted to devote her life and love to her for whatever years she had left in this galaxy.

Tara couldn't bear to watch her weighed down any longer.

Following her heart's instinct, she approached the Commander with the stealth of a Huntress and waited to speak until she was right next to her—a surprise attack. "And I thought Ghost could get a faraway look in his eyes when he was deep in thought," Tara said, keeping her voice light.

Shepard blinked, suddenly awoken from her thoughts and confused at the new presence at her side. Tara spared her a teasing smile before tapping her forehead between her eyebrows with her index and middle finger. "You know if you furrow your brow like that too long it'll get stuck that way."

Shepard's lips upturned into an amused smile; it was a win, but only the beginning of her plan to make the savior of the galaxy feel better.

"If the war couldn't keep my furrowed brow stuck, I'm sure this won't," the redhead responded with humor in her tone.

"I suppose you are right," Tara conceded.

The war placed a heavy burden on this young human's shoulders. If it could not permanently furrow her brow, this incident they would resolve today wouldn't be able to either. Still, that did not mean she would let the redhead stay in her pit of despair.

First, some good news.

"Your friend James is almost back." An appreciative nod, but it was only the opening salvo of her good news cannon. "I also spoke to Grissom. Kasumi hasn't regained consciousness yet but he and Doctor Chakwas are rather optimistic about her recovery. They don't see any brain or spinal damage, thank the Goddess, and her condition continues to improve as they work."

It took a moment to sink in, but as soon as it did Shepard smiled, her happiness growing exponentially at the wonderful news. Although Kasumi had yet to regain consciousness, the lack of brain and spinal damage meant many of the worst case scenarios would not come true.

When Kasumi woke up she would not look at Shepard and see a stranger because of these terrorists. She would wake up and see the woman she loved waiting patiently for her to return to her, just as Kasumi waited for Shepard to return.

The news rekindled the spirit in Shepard's eyes while simultaneously fueling her determination to force the people responsible for these attacks to have no choice but to liquefy their meals for the next several months.

"Thank you," Shepard said, the relief in her voice and body language clear as her sky blue eyes.

Tara smiled at the human. _Mission complete._ "No need to thank me. I'm the happy messenger in this situation. I didn't like seeing you beat yourself up over something you had no control of. You and Ghost share that similarity."

"You pass on good news to cheer him up? Do you have to knock one of your crew out and tell him they're going to be okay?" Shepard jested.

She laughed and shook her head. Oh, the Commander had no idea what she just instigated. _I'm going to enjoy this._

"Oh no, when he gets like this I usually just bring him to a bed and make tender love to him to cheer him up."

Her pinpointed strike hit perfectly and knocked Shepard off balance. She shifted in awkwardness. "I doubt Ghost or Kasumi would approve of that if you tried it to cheer me up," Shepard tried to retort, but without proper footing it lacked the necessary defenses to hold up in their battle.

In the end Shepard left herself wide open for Tara's finishing blow.

"What they don't know won't hurt them." Tara winked and smiled flirtatiously at the attractive human.

Shepard's eyes widened in surprise and then her cheeks began to tint an adorable pink. _Such a nice color on her._

Unable to think of a witty retort, Shepard turned her head away to look back out the window.

Tara tried her hardest to restrain her laughter, hoping to extend her fun as long as possible, but the head turn did her in. Hysterical laughter she could not control bubbled out of her, leaving her grabbing at her aching sides as it refused to die off.

Oh Goddess, the legendary Commander had fallen face first into her beautiful trap! Such perfect reactions, too. Could she not see how absolutely adorable it was for her to be blushing at light flirtation?

_Kasumi must have fun with you!_ She giggled as her laughter nearly faded. Oh yes, Kasumi must have made a game out of getting her to blush by now. _What a lovely woman you have fallen in love with, Kasumi._

Laughter under her control, Tara slugged the redhead in the shoulder. "You should see the look on your face! Oh Goddess, that was a good one."

In the reflection of the window Tara noticed Ghost grinning at her antics as Darian stood close by, shaking his head in mock disapproval, but his toothy grin broke the illusion. She winked at her lover, smiling widely as her mirth refused to be contained.

"Good one," Shepard congratulated.

"I try. You made it too easy by setting me up for the making tender love comment."

The N7 nodded as she smiled, her embarrassment fading for genuine amusement at the joke she fell for.

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Honestly I would never cheat on Ghost and I know you would never cheat on Kasumi. I love Ghost too much to hurt him and I know you feel the same about Kasumi. Making you blush and get your mind off your thoughts was my only goal," Tara explained.

Tara wanted to ensure there were no misunderstandings about her intentions. Yes Commander Shepard was an attractive human in spirit and physical beauty, but Tara's heart could never love another as it loved Ghost.

When he…when he finally passed, she would not look for another to fill the void. Ghost could not be replaced by any man or woman, regardless of species. She would continue to raise and guide their horde of daughters and love them with all the love she could give until the Goddess called her to join Ghost once more.

"Your secret weapon," Shepard asked, a smirk on her face.

Tara smiled back. "Maybe. But your mood has improved so I'd say it worked this time. Can't make jokes like that on the guys anymore. They stopped taking the bait after six years."

Her words brought a laugh out of Shepard. Seeing yet another opportunity to improve Shepard's mood, Tara's eyes lit up with delight, smile widening into a grin. "I know! Six years they fell for it. I couldn't believe their gullibility either but I miss it so much now. You should have seen how flustered I could get Darian and Whitney."

Those two had provided her _so_ much laughter for six years, especially Whitney.

"I guess I'm glad I could provide you with the entertainment of falling for your jokes," Shepard replied.

Tara was merely glad to provide her a moment of respite from the darkness.

"How did you and Ghost even meet up anyways?" Tara was admittedly caught off guard by the question, but she didn't mind the curiousness in Shepard's gaze. "In my time fighting Blue Suns, I don't recall seeing Krogan's, Drell's or Asari among them."

Ah, she could see where her confusion came from. Blue Suns companies tended to be mostly comprised of Turians, humans and Batarians. Eclipse were more Salarian and Asari and Bloodpack were Krogan and Vorcha, usually.

So why did they break from the mold crafted by the other mercenaries?

"Ghost and Darian started as Blue Suns. The rest of us joined their crew when we eventually met them. They didn't care about race and didn't listen to the Suns rules anyways. They were always the outcasts of the group so they did things their own way," Tara explained.

With Ghost's purple eyes and Darian's biotic abilities neither exactly fit in to normal society. Even among mercenaries they remained oddities.

Ghost's eyes left mercenaries paranoid over if he was truly human or not, and that suspicion left him shunned by the higher-ups despite his skill.

Darian, on the other hand, faced the suspicions of other Turians. From a young age Turian society engraved distrust in biotics. The stigma biotics faced because of it was so bad their military separated them into squads of other biotics called Cabal units.

Then again, without these ridiculous and baseless suspicions Darian and Ghost faced, they would have never forged their brotherly relationship. And without that the N7 Talons would have never existed, and then none of them would have a place to call home.

"The longer we worked together, the closer we all grew to one another. Each of us burned our Blue Sun tattoos long before we left, all except Ghost."

_And he'll never remove it_, she thought as a reflective look crossed her features.

Shepard raised her eyebrows in surprise at their removal of the tattoos before leaving the mercenary group.

"Our loyalty had always been to him instead of the mercenary group. None of us saw the point in keeping the tattoos when we were treated as second class citizens by the Suns and as family by Ghost. Ghost only keeps his as a reminder of where he started and a scar to never forget what the Suns did to the people he cared about."

"He still hasn't forgiven himself for whatever happened to you all?" Shepard asked.

Tara shook her head, her heart sinking as a saddened expression formed. "No, he hasn't, and I doubt he ever will."

Ghost would never be able to forgive himself. But maybe together they could create enough happy memories to outweigh the pain of their past.

"So how did you find your way into his crew?" Shepard asked, changing the subject.

Tara appreciated the gesture and allowed the conversation to leave the sad subject. "Before joining the Blue Suns, my sister and I were adrift. We were kicked out of the Asari military over a decision we made. That decision left us without work and as outcasts to our own people. Each of us are outcasts of our own people actually," the Asari added thoughtfully.

Every one of their stories was different, painted in different shades by their separate experiences to create unique portraits of their lives, but in the end none of them had a place among their own people.

"What decision did you make?" she asked.

Tara sighed deeply at the question. She wasn't unwilling to answer, nor did she regret the decision she made, but the choice hadn't come without a scar on her heart.

"I was the leader of a squad of four Huntresses, myself included. My sister and another of our squad were masters of long range and hit and run tactics. I was called a Valkyrie; a Sentinel like you just not as good looking."

Shepard did not snap at the bait, unfortunately. She smirked and eyed her with amusement, deflating Tara's attempt to get her to blush again.

"Damn it, you're already immune," she cursed.

It was a shame really. Pink was such a nice shade on her.

"The other in our unit was a Vanguard. We were meant to hit this facility hard and fast but naturally things weren't what they seemed."

"_Little sis, what the hell is all of this?" Valera asked._

"_Goddess," Tara gasped. "They're building biological weapons."_

A heavy sigh escaped her as memories of the day pressed against the barriers she put up.

"We attacked the building, killing everyone before they were aware of our presence. When we secured the facility we found out it was really a facility to build biological weapons. We thought we were going to be ordered to destroy it, but instead out superiors wanted to take it as their own.

"We deliberated on what to do after cutting comms. Looking at the place made me sick so I voted we set charges and go. Nobody should be able to kill others by infecting them with fatal diseases that can spread to others like clockwork. It's disgusting.

"My sister agreed…but the other two didn't. They believed we had to follow orders, that these weapons could save lives in the right hands. I will tell you what I told them: when it comes to weapons such as those, there is no such thing as 'the right hands.'"

Tara shook her head, her lip curling in disgust. "Someone somewhere will get their hands on it and use it for the wrong means, or those who were 'right' will eventually see it as the only tool to keep others in check. Look at the Genophage. Look at what it did to the Krogan."

Her skin was beginning to tingle as the flames of anger spread throughout her body. Again she shook her head only to inhale a deep breath and exhale it in an attempt to soothe her rising passion about the subject matter.

"Arguments got heated, then the two pulled guns on us…"

"_Whoa, easy," Valera tried to ease the tension as she raised her hands in surrender._

_Tara raised her hands as well with one of her remote explosives still in her hand, her brow furrowed as she looked between her two comrades. So, this was their decision._

"_I'm sorry Tara, but we cannot allow you to destroy these weapons when we have direct orders to capture them."_

"_Don't tell me you actually believe our superiors will use these weapons for good?" Valera questioned in disbelief._

"_No good can ever come from these weapons," Tara said._

"_That may be so, but it is not our place as soldiers to make these sorts of judgement calls. We have orders to follow, and we must believe our superiors are seeing a larger picture than what is currently in front of us."_

"_Even if it kills millions of innocent lives? Even if it forces us to question our own morality?" Tara asked. "No," she shook her head, "I will not follow orders such as these blindly. I will not nod my head and say 'yes ma'am' and pretend I have no choice in the matter. We have a choice. We can destroy these weapons and prevent them from ever being used on innocent lives, civilians and soldiers alike."_

"_Even if we do destroy them it will only delay the inevitability of these weapons being created," her former comrade retorted._

_Tara nodded. "You may be right. Destroying this one facility may only delay the inevitable." Her eyes narrowed. "But I will have no part in speeding up the process in which they are created."_

_Their comrades kept their weapons leveled with their center masses. "Don't make us kill you two as traitors."_

"_Who are the real traitors," Valera spat. "We were your sisters-in-arms. We have fought time and again to protect one another, yet you would gun us down because you want to follow a bad order. Your superiors weren't there deep in the blood and muck with you. Your superiors weren't there to patch you up and support you when all hell broke loose. We were!"_

_Silence fell over the squad. Tara could see the struggle her former comrades were having. She knew they didn't truly want to kill them but they would if they had to._

_Unlike her and her sister, they were good soldiers. They could follow bad orders and separate their hearts from the situation. Tara had believed herself a good soldier before today, but this was one order she could not follow._

_Her heart could not let her leave these weapons standing._

_Tara glanced to her sister and found her as resolute in their decision as ever. A small dip of her head revealed she was ready for a fight. Preparing a barrier, Tara exhaled a sigh. "Goddess, forgive me."_

_She activated the charge and all hell broke loose._

The weight of Shepard's hands awoke Tara from the memory to the comforting sky blue eyes. Her heart crashed hard and fast against her chest just as it had during their intense battle. She shut her eyes briefly, hiding the glistening shimmer from herself and Shepard.

When she felt in control again, she opened her eyes and gave the human thanking smile for her support and continued.

"After my sister and I set the charges, we left. Our superiors found out barely even hours after. We ran and managed to escape them by a slim margin.

"We met Ghost on Omega after some mercenary assholes mistook us as strippers and believed they had the right to touch us. After watching us take them down he offered us a place in his squad. In return for our help he would provide us work, shelter and dependable friends," Tara finished.

"I'm sorry." Shepard's sincere condolences were appreciated, but unneeded. This human did not force her sisters-in-arms to fight her, and though she felt great remorse for their deaths, it had been the only way to destroy the biological weapons and leave safely.

She waved off her apology. "My sister and I made our choice. Sure things turned out bad, but they would have gunned us down had we not defended ourselves, and had we not done that who knows what atrocity would have been committed using those weapons.

"Besides, look at me now. I'm a part of the first cross-species N7 team, deeply in love, and working alongside the hero of the galaxy." Tara smiled at Shepard. "I'd say things worked out in the end."

"Do you ever miss it? The military I mean," Shepard asked.

Tara shook her head. "No. Maybe at first but…"

Her eyes trailed away back to the reflection of Ghost and Darian. They were speaking to one another on serious matters from the look of it, but the sight of the pair was enough to keep her smiling.

"I wouldn't change meeting them for anything, neither would Val." But that was enough about her. It was time she turned the questions back onto Shepard. "What about you?" she asked, turning to face the woman. "Would you change using Cerberus to stop the Collectors if you could?"

She flicked her eyes to the reflection again to look at Jack as she and the Krogan named Grunt engaged in a verbal jousting battle. Then she looked to Miranda sitting across from Liara with her omni-tool open as she worked.

Without joining Cerberus temporarily she would have never met them or Kasumi. So would she change using Cerberus to instead stay with the Alliance if it meant never meeting them?

Tara already knew the answer, of course, but she was making a point regarding her departure from the military.

"No. No, I wouldn't," Shepard answered without flinching. "Even if meant going through all the hell again, having the privilege to know them is worth any pain."

"Even if it meant losing your four friends again?" Tara asked.

The N7 nodded. "Yes. If I could stop them from dying without it costing me a larger amount of friends or thousands of lives, I would. But if there was no way to change what happened then I would go through all the pain it caused again. They're my family."

And there was her point. Tara smiled fondly at Shepard. "That right there is why I don't regret leaving the Asari military or living the life I have, Commander. The bonds I formed with them mean everything to me."

Bonds like the ones they had formed with their respective comrades were hard to find and even harder to let go of. But even when they ended in pain, the memories of the fallen and their impact in their lives made the pain worth it.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence and returned to observing the world beyond the glass window in front of them. Shepard's body language no longer revealed the same tension or the dark thoughts hovering over her like a personal storm cloud; she appeared at ease for the first time since entering the apartment.

Tara was relieved and pleased she could provide even the smallest bit of support for the savior of the galaxy in her time of need.

It was the least she could do for her and Kasumi.

Soon after, James and Diana showed up. Shepard excused herself to go speak with the reporter of the pair, leaving Tara alone to wait for the call to regroup.

The Asari watched them exchange pleasantries in the reflection and half-listened as they discussed the plan to take down Saracino. It sounded as if everything was finally falling into place. Soon they would bring an end to these terrorists and their power grab, and then peace would return.

"It almost sounds too easy," Shepard said to the reporter.

"I wouldn't say easy, but it's definitely not taking on a Reaper head-on."

"Maybe I've just had too many hard fights. Talk to Liara, Ghost and EDI, they should have the information needed."

The sound of a shuttle flying close to the apartment set Tara on immediate alert. Normal traffic shouldn't penetrate the quiet sanctuary of this room due to the glass separating it from the outside world.

Battle instinct made her begin preparing a barrier, and a good thing too since a shuttle rose into view directly in front of her.

"Oh shit," Jack swore.

The shuttle door opened to reveal a group of armed men in unmarked armor aiming their rifles right at her.

"Goddess," she cursed.

"Tara move!" Ghost shouted from behind her, his voice a mixture of concern for her safety and anger at the extremists.

Tara put her hand out and summoned her biotic's into a sphere to protect her just as gunfire erupted into the apartment.

Her barrier kept the rounds from harming her, but she could not remain here for long. The terrorists needed only to jump into the apartment and attempt to attack her physically to harm her or take down her barrier. If she were to get out of this unharmed and assist the fight to the best of her ability, she needed to retreat.

"You just had to say it, didn't you Shepard?" Miranda questioned.

"Ah, just like old times," Garrus said.

Tara kept a calm mind as she slowly walked herself backwards and maintained her biotic bubble. Even as a second shuttle pulled up she remained calm. Losing focus now would endanger her and end quite morbidly, and she had no intention of dying here.

She still had to retire from combat with Ghost and bring a horde of blue daughters into the galaxy. Her horde of troublemakers would be just a mischievous and full of life as their father, and she would love them to bits.

"Pull her out of there, Darian!" Ghost ordered.

The sensation of another's biotic's wrapping around her body signaled Darian's next move. "Tara, drop the bubble now!"

She obeyed and dropped her barrier, trusting her comrade fully to pull her to safety. The biotic grip latched onto her and then she was airborne, being tugged backwards through the air and into the safety of Ghost's arms.

Her lover brought her down into cover behind the divider wall and cast his worried eyes over her to check for injuries. He was so adorable when he was worried.

"Are you okay?" Ghost asked.

Tara smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. "Unwounded and pissed off, Love."

Ghost smirked and patted her shoulder then turned his head to look back in Shepard's direction, towards the kitchen. "Shepard, what's the plan?"

"Kill the bastards who are shooting up my home."

Ghost and Tara chuckled. "Simple, I like it. Carson," he turned to their pilot, "I want you to get a hack on that shuttle. We're going pirating again."

"Aye aye, Captain!"

"Darian, provide him covering fire. Tara," he looked back to her, "it's time to kick some ass," Ghost said.

"As you command, Love."

"EDI see if you can send a message to the others. They may be about to be attacked just like us. After that, help Carson quicken the hack. The rest of you watch each other's backs and kick some ass," the commander ordered.

Tara summoned her biotic's again and glanced around the divider wall for a group of targets. Several of the men had jumped into the apartment, receiving covering fire from their packed shuttles as they took cover behind whatever they could find—walls, furniture, etc.

Spotting two targets pinning down Jack, the Asari popped out of cover and unleashed two biotic throws, hitting the pair square in their chests and sending them sailing out of the apartments to their deaths.

Some street cleaner was going to have a poor day when they found those two splattered on the ground.

"I'm trying to figure out if this is Shepard's natural luck, Ghost's or a terrible combination of the two," Liara said as she put a group of the shooters in a stasis bubble.

"Who cares? We finally get to shoot some of these cowards!" Grunt responded.

"I agree with the Krogan," Javik agreed.

"I'm not this unlucky," Ghost muttered as he took cover.

"Mm, yes you are, Love," Tara teased. She planted a kiss on his cheek before moving back out to take down more goons.

She would give Saracino and Kelham credit for this attack. They did manage to scrounge up a decent force to try to kill them, and they caught them off guard, but they needed to enjoy their small victory while it lasted. After the Normandy team and N7 Talons were done ending these extremists, the puppeteers would be the next in line to die.

This would be the final act in their grand scheme and their final mistake, and when the curtain closed on the scene they would only have themselves to blame for their untimely end.


	17. Chapter 17: Curtain Call

Chapter 17

Curtain Call

"What a bunch of amateurs!" James boasted as he fired off rounds at the remaining mercenaries left in the apartment.

"Do you think Saracino or Kelham told them we would fight back? It doesn't seem like they knew what they were getting into," Tali teased.

The jeers of her comrades kept a smile on Miranda's face despite her attempts to remain serious. Quite frankly, these men never stood a chance beyond their initial surprise attack.

A better leader and far more skilled agents would have at the least wounded one of the Normandy team or N7 Talons in this close-quarters battle; the only blood to be spilled thus far, however, belonged to the hired thugs.

Between the sheer power and skill of the Normandy team and the N7 Talons, their enemies became as uncoordinated and weak as the lowest difficulty of the Combat Arena suffering from a glitch.

_I think I'm insulted_, Miranda mused. _Surely they could have afforded to send true professionals to kill us._

Either these men were new standard for professionals—what a sad reality that would be—or their enemies did not consider them to be dangerous enough to warrant the effort; a massive miscalculation on their part, one these poor fools were currently paying for with their lives.

Although their lack of cover and the surprise attack did leave them off balance at first, the Normandy team and N7 Talons regrouped quickly and turned the tide of the battle back into their favor. Even after Ghost and Carson pirated one of the enemy shuttles to chase after the other, lowering their fighters by two, the momentum never shifted back into the favor of their enemies.

The goons sent to kill them barely had a moment to leave cover to fire shots off. Either they tried to peek out and scurried back to avoid being shot or they made suicidal attempts to kill or wound one of their targets.

It never worked. For the defenders of the apartment the battle became more of a game of who could take down the most enemies, though this wasn't to say they were taking stupid risks.

_We didn't survive an impossible war to die here._

Miranda did hold concerns over the status of Ghost and Carson. The shuttle they pirated was still occupied with their assailants when they took off after the other shuttle. Overwhelming enemy forces could end the lives of even the most talented of fighters.

Even if their assailants weren't as skilled in combat as the two war-heroes, all it took was one attack or one mistake from the dominant fighter to turn the odds against them.

Upon the subject being addressed in the middle of the fight, Darian and Tara reassured the group their leader and pilot were alive, but Miranda could hear the growing anxiety in their voices.

If Ghost and Carson weren't able to clear the shuttle and take full control of the situation then it was all too likely they would be killed or, even worse, taken back to Kelham or Saracino—two individuals who would undoubtedly inflict pain on them before eventually killing them.

Tara and Darian continued to hold onto hope, though. They believed their leader and pilot were still alive, never knowing them to lose a close-quarter fight or fail at pirating a ship.

Who was she to doubt them?

A blue hue surrounding Darian preceded him suspending his targets helplessly above the ground within two Pull fields. Moving in synch with her comrade, Tara moved out of cover an instant later and detonated his attack with two Warps, killing the two with ease.

"Nice one!" Darian complimented his teammate.

"I'm sure you say that to all the Asari who make your biotic's detonate," she responded.

"They weren't supposed to be this heavily armed! Saracino sent us to our deaths!" one of the goons yelled at his partners.

"Sending you against us was asking for death even if we weren't armed!" Liara jeered back.

"Oh come on T'Soni, no need to weaken their moral any further," Garrus scolded in jest.

"Evac is almost here, just hold on!" another goon shouted.

Miranda furrowed her brow. _Evac?_ She popped out of cover and sighted down one of her targets with her pistol, unloading two rounds in quick succession. The first lodged into her intended targets head, the second sent one of their enemies scurrying back behind cover before he could fire on Tali.

Another enemy let out a frightened scream as they plummeted out the window after Shepard hit them with a Throw.

_Were Ghost and Carson unable to capture the shuttle?_

Taking cover, Miranda focused internally on her next biotic attack. She couldn't worry about the two N7 Talons yet. The enemy she sent scurrying into cover was still in a good position to shoot not only Tali, but EDI and Liara as well. She needed to eliminate him before he could do any real damage.

Biotic's at the ready, Miranda stood up and extended her hand out as shimmering blue swirled around her, ensnaring her target in a tight grasp. Now it was time to put an end to his attempts to wound her comrades.

"I'll crush you!" she growled, lifting her extended hand upwards, simultaneously lifting the man as she envisioned her attack in her mind.

_Lift then slam!_

She swung her hand downwards, as if throwing an invisible ball into the ground, slamming her target into the apartment floor chest first. Several ribs undoubtedly fractured on impact, in the process eliminating him from the fight. Unfortunately for him the force of the slam bounced his body back up into the line of fire.

"I'll turn you into dust!" Jack shouted, launching a Shockwave at their enemies. The cascading attack shifted the furniture in its wake and sent the floating enemy out the window to his death. Another enemy in the path of the attack was suspended momentarily by the biotic aftermath—yet another helpless fool to be eliminated.

Miranda shot her hand forward, her biotic attack focused and primed to launch, and Warped him into oblivion. The detonation and resulting shockwave of the two powerful biotic attacks thrummed through the floor and shook the walls.

"Ha! Nice!" Jack complimented over the gunfire.

"Hmph, it was elementary really. These thugs aren't worth my real power."

"Sheathe your ego, Cheerleader. You'll scar these poor children."

"I'm impressed you used the word sheathe. Are you expanding your vocabulary?" she retorted without any malicious intent.

"Fuck off, you perfect bitch!" Jack responded, a chuckle in her voice and no doubt a grin on her face.

Miranda snorted. "I'll take that as a no." In this currently off-kilter situation, it was nice at least one thing remained normal.

"I don't think I'll ever understand the dynamics of their…friendship?" Liara said, seemingly confused by their particular banter.

"It's almost like they enjoy each other's company," Tali chimed in to tease the pair.

If they only knew how much they had come to enjoy each other's company.

"As much as I would enjoy a parasite," Miranda deadpanned.

"Fuck you too, Cheerleader!"

But they didn't need to know yet. For now they preferred to keep it private.

The banter died off as a shuttle returned to hover just outside the window, but the door did not open.

"What are you waiting for?! Open the door!" one of the thugs demanded.

The door to Shepard's apartment opened, setting Miranda on high alert. _Are they flanking us?_ Her heart picked up pace. It was the situation she feared the most; a simple flanking maneuver would leave the entirety of the team open to a counterattack with no cover to shield them from both assaults.

Only a tactical retreat to the upper floors or into the back rooms could help, but they'd end up trapping themselves in a corner. While a bottleneck could form, funneling these witless idiots right into their gunfire, few rooms had enough space and cover to keep them all safe.

The sight of a large squad of C-Sec officers entering with their guns drawn eased her heart. Heading the group was none other than Commander Bailey. "Drop your weapons and put your hands up," Bailey ordered.

"Bailey?" Shepard's surprised was matched by every member of her team.

Miranda hadn't actually expected C-Sec to turn up until _after_ the shootout was over. Their forces were spread so thinly, it was amazing they even still have a quick reaction force like this.

Granted this particular fight was already at its conclusion, yet a last second arrival was sometimes better than no arrival at all.

"Heard you needed a hand," he responded, a small smirk gracing his lips before turning serious once more.

The shuttle door finally opened to reveal Ghost and Carson, their weapons trained on the group. "Ahoy mates!" Ghost greeted, brandishing a humorous smirk.

_Mm_, Miranda rolled her eyes. _I should have figured it was him._

"Took you long enough," Darian wisecracked.

"You know me, Darian: I like to make a dramatic entrance."

Looking at how cornered they were by the three groups, their assailants silently decided to wave the white flag and drop their weapons. Surrender or death were the options left to them, and it was clear they believed prison was far better than dying in a volley of rounds and biotics.

_Probably the smartest decision they made all day._

The C-Sec officers proceeded to omni-cuff all of the men and escort them out to their skycars.

With the fight finally over, the Normandy team and three of the four N7 Talons regrouped in the center of the room; Bailey joined them while Carson remained in the shuttle to keep it steady, and to literally kick and throw out the men they had killed or knocked out.

Now it was finally time for them to strike back at Kelham and Saracino. One look around revealed everyone was itching to turn their defense into offense—a sentiment Miranda wholeheartedly agreed with.

Terra Firma had attacked Kasumi, bombed a refugee camp and now tried a full assault on Shepard's home. And what had they done? They sat back and took every blow right on the chin without any sort of retort.

That changed now. The information they gathered granted them the opportunity to strike down Terra Firma, Kelham and Saracino so they could no longer disrupt the peace gained by defeating the Reapers. All the pieces were in position. Now it was time to launch their counterattack and end Terra Firma's reckless gambit.

"Well, I have to say being around you guys makes life a lot more interesting," Ghost said as he approached. Diana and her camera drone joined the group as well. "Get any good footage?"

"Actually yes. One of those men shouted something about Saracino sending them to their deaths. If that wasn't damning enough, everything you and Liara put together is," Allers answered.

_Good._ She may have dedicated years of her life to Cerberus, but Miranda no longer felt any loyalty to the organization. More, she believed it better for Cerberus and Terra Firma to crumble into dust and fade away forever.

Humanity didn't need a sword that so easily turned to cut them down for a "brighter future" or other such nonsense. Humanity didn't need people to fuel their xenophobia and use aliens as a scapegoat for why atrocities were committed.

Shepard was proof humanity could ascend to greatness without falling to darker temptations. She united an entire galaxy during the greatest crisis of their lives _without_ killing innocent refugees and using Reaper tech to "enhance" humanity. Cerberus, on the other hand, nearly handed the war over to the Reapers in a ridiculous grab for power while Terra Firma killed human refugees and attacked the hero of the galaxy for a similar reason.

Humanity was better off without them.

"What exactly did we find?" James asked.

Glyph appeared next to Liara, ready to help enlarge the information his owner pulled up from her omni-tool so they could all see it.

"This isn't the first time a rival to Saracino has been mysteriously killed," the Asari explained. "After the Battle of the Citadel, Saracino was going up against a man named Claude Menneau for the leadership of Terra Firma. Claude was actually three points ahead in the polls when he disappeared without a trace along with his ship and bodyguards."

"Naturally," Shepard commented.

Miranda wasn't surprised either. It was no secret politicians employed dirty tactics to rise to power. Some of the best paying jobs for mercenaries had them acting as bodyguards or performing other nefarious acts on behalf of the politician who hired them.

Cerberus also took interest in using their agents to aid their chosen candidates rise to power as their enemies fell to obscurity, though the Illusive Man tended to use information as his weapon more often than not. An affair with a mistress here, misinformation there, it solved the problem without drawing attention through bloodshed.

_For him to order Claude's disappearance…_

Miranda hummed in discontent, earning her a confused look from Jack, who stood next to her.

It was dangerous, reckless even by his standards, yet she was beginning to see the pattern hidden in his web of secrecy. The obscure intentions related to the Illusive Man going so far for Saracino were becoming comprehensible.

His rise to power in Terra Firma, the political moves Saracino made before and during the war, this latest attack, it was all connected to one reason.

A reason Miranda couldn't believe she hadn't seen until now.

Ghost shook his head at Shepard's response to Liara's explanation. "That's not it though. Rumors had run around for years about it, and thus started the small investigations on him. Many backroom deals and disappearances later and our most recent victim took on investigating alongside Hackett once the war was over." He turned to the commander, his shadowed face completely serious. "They found Claude."

"No shit," Jack said.

Liara and Ghost both nodded. "He and one of his bodyguards were found dead in their ship on the ass end of the Sol System, assassinated for certain and decayed," Ghost explained.

Sloppy work in Miranda's opinion. At a guess, the mission was to break in a new recruit, prove their loyalty to the cause by staining their hands with blood to lock in their loyalty to the organization.

Although their assassination was successful and went unnoticed until now, someone finding it even years later was a rookie mistake. A senior agent would have ensured no body was ever found.

Another possibility was the agent responsible actively sabotaged the mission so this day would eventually come.

The Shadow Broker pressed a few buttons on her omni-tool to bring up another screen of data. "But get this, his second bodyguard wasn't there. In fact he was actually found in a Cerberus base raid where he killed himself."

"Wait, you're not suggesting—"

"The Illusive Man had Claude killed to get Saracino in power?" Ghost interrupted Tali in the form of the question they were all wondering. He nodded and continued, "Yeah, we are, and that still isn't it. After Shepard left, the glowy eyed bastard began prepping Saracino while in the meantime making sure Saracino's opposition was minimal and the words he spoke were the ones he wanted voiced."

"Prepping?" Garrus and Tara questioned in unison.

"Udina wasn't the only puppet," Shepard stated rather than asked. Ghost and Liara nodded in agreement. "And Saracino was meant to take over where he left off if I got my hands on him."

Miranda shut her eyes and exhaled a deep sigh at the confirmation of her theory. She should have known the Illusive Man would prepare someone else to carry on his mission. Should his plan not succeed and he die, Cerberus would tear apart at the seams because he placed them front and center as the enemy of the Milky Way.

The main head of the three-headed hellhound would die, but another could remain alive to carry on the ideal in its stead. Through Terra Firma, Saracino could make the openly xenophobic sentiment just part of the political game, normalizing their ideals in society as operatives moved in the shadows to "strengthen" humanity as they saw fit.

Sometimes the most obvious and simple plans were the best to rely on. No one would have seen it coming had Saracino and Kelham not acted so openly and rashly so soon.

Or perhaps Terra Firma was yet another head to sacrifice so the third could sink into the shadows. Miranda couldn't be sure, but she planned to seek out those answers as soon as they were done with Terra Firma.

"Yes, but that's still only two-thirds of the answer," Ghost said.

"Lovely," Miranda muttered under her breath.

Deep down she knew Cerberus and Terra Firma wouldn't disappear without kicking and screaming at the top of their lungs. One thing the Illusive Man understood better than anyone was the strength of an idea.

Ideas could not be destroyed. Feelings were more powerful than facts. As long as one person still believed in an idea, no matter how wrong or absent of facts it was, it wouldn't disappear. It could be forced underground and out of sight, but there it would fester and grow until again it rose to prominence.

Too many people in the galaxy could be herded like sheep by their chosen leaders. Twisted words and spun ideals could blind a person into following dangerous individuals down a dark path, all the while believing they were righteous in their goals.

Miranda was no exception. She ate right out of the Illusive Man's hand for years because he only let her see what she needed to see. Or perhaps she only saw what she wanted to because she was using Cerberus to further her own goals.

Miranda didn't know if she chose to be blind or if he hid the truth from her. She wanted to believe he fooled her, that he pulled the wool over her eyes and prevented her from seeing everything Cerberus stood for…but that was an easy excuse, wasn't it? To blame him and his grand schemes while ignoring any mistakes in judgement she made? Because it was easier to run away than to confront the fact she chose to turn a blind eye by claiming "_necessary sacrifice_."

It was easy, really. Without seeing projects like Pragia or Project Overload firsthand, everything was cold statistics and numbers. Cold data for an even colder heart.

Two fingers wrapped around her pinky and ring finger for a brief second. At first she stiffened, broken from her dark reverie back to the present…where one of the people harmed by Cerberus was pulling her away from the storm.

"_Clearly you were a mistake."_

Those biting words she spat at Jack…she had almost forgotten them. The ache of guilt it sprang up in her heart hit her hard. How…how could Jack even look at her and see anything except the cold-hearted bitch who called her a mistake? She never even apologized for it.

_I need to…_

Even if it meant bringing up something that could ruin the bond they built…it was what was right. She couldn't tuck it away and pretend it never happened now that she remembered. It was already eating away at her, gnawing and gnashing its corruptive teeth on her heart in refusal to be forgotten.

It happened with Shepard, too, when she remembered wanting the control chip for her.

How easily she wanted to strip the N7 of her free will and self when it suited her needs…and how easily she called someone else a mistake because they didn't fit her perfect mold…just like her father.

When this was all over, she would apologize to Jack for those hurtful words she too knew the pain of. She would make it right, no matter what.

The comforting burst of warmth Jack's show of affection sent through her heart couldn't be ignored any longer either; it melted the subzero temperatures away and allowed her to breathe a bit easier.

Come what may, she would never regret their kiss or any of the feelings they shared since the end of the war.

Jack's fingers released her a moment later, but the initial act was enough to keep the heavy and cold feelings away.

"What is the final third Liara T'Soni?" Javik asked.

"These last attacks were meant to eliminate us, as I'm sure we are all aware of, but that is because Saracino is going to opt-in as the new human ambassador. We have a recording of him speaking to Kelham about providing the bombs for the refugee camp, but there is one problem." Liara let her gaze fall onto Shepard. "There was one bomb missing."

It was amazing how a single sentence could fill someone with insurmountable dread.

"Son of a bitch! He's going to try to assassinate Ambassador Osoba," Bailey concluded in shock.

Panic spread like wildfire through the room. This insane gambit, if successful, could very well place the whole of humanity's political power in the hands of Saracino. From his role as Ambassador he could put his own people into major political roles and work towards an eventual run as a Councilor for the Citadel Council.

He couldn't become a galactic dictator or even a dictator the Sol System, thankfully. But with all of humanity's resources at his disposal in this admittedly fragile time of post-war, the disasters he could create and the alliances he could fracture would do lasting damage they might never recover from.

"Well this is all damning information, but if we don't find his final bomb or Osoba we could be looking at an even bigger problem," Darian stated.

He was absolutely right. Every second they delayed put Osoba and the future at risk.

Shepard turned to Bailey. "Bailey, do you know where the Ambassador is?"

"He was meeting with the Councilors when I left C-Sec headquarters. I can send bomb squads to his office and home to ensure those areas are safe," he answered.

"Do it. We need to keep him somewhere safe." She turned to Ghost. "Ghost, do you think we should go after Kelham?"

There was no hesitation in Ghost's sharp nod. "Definitely. He could know the location of the bomb. We have a shuttle already under their IFF signature, so say the word and me and my team load up."

Shepard nodded. "Go then. Bring Jack, Grunt, James and Javik with you. You may need the backup."

"Gents, ladies and Prothean's you heard her, load up," Ghost ordered. All six of them left to load up as their leader turned to Bailey, opening his omni-tool to pass on information. "Here are the disarming protocols for the bomb in case your men find it." He turned his earnest gaze back to the redhead. "Shepard, I'll bring them back unharmed, I promise."

She gave another nod before he lifted a finger to his ear and jogged over to the shuttle. "Carson, get this bird fired up and set the coordinates for the warehouse. Darian send a message to the others and tell them to be on high alert. I don't want any hiccups from here on out. Today Terra Firma burns the same as Cerberus."

He jumped up into the shuttle and before the door even shut the shuttle zoomed off.

_Be careful, all of you._

"I don't think I've seen him that serious since he helped me get your body back," Liara said, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"I feel bad for whoever stands in his way. That man has a fire in his eyes that rivals most Krogan," Garrus commented.

"Glad he's on our side," Shepard said with a nod of agreement to Garrus. She looked back to EDI and Liara. "So how do we handle Saracino himself? I assume having Diana bring this information to the attention of both the Council and Battlespace is only part of the solution."

EDI nodded. "Yes. The possibility of Saracino assassinating Osoba as well as his original target is too high for us to wait," she answered.

"What do you suggest EDI?" the redhead asked.

"According to public records, Saracino is holding a rally to gain support for the spot as the next human ambassador. Arresting him would be the normal course of action, but it could incite a riot if he has followers among them. Seeing you among the crowd could make him falter, and if you were to bring this information into the light at such a public rally you could turn his less radical followers against him before having C-Sec move in."

The sky blue eyed commander brought her hand to her chin as she mulled over the plan. The plan overall was solid; it lessened the possibility of further gunfire and violence if they were lucky.

At the same time, however, it placed Shepard in the worst of the danger. She would be among anti-alien sympathizers who might not care about the truth, or even see her as a threat to their goals. She could be attacked if they sent her in without backup.

"It sounds like a good plan, but is there a possibility of snipers?"

"I wouldn't put it past them," Miranda said.

They sent men to her home, attacked Kasumi and bombed a refugee camp. Two of those three attacks succeeded, and if Saracino was smart he would have a precautionary plan in case Shepard did survive to come after him.

"Well if you're going to take this route, Shepard, I can get a team of snipers to give us the best locations to attack from and send them to locations where they could counter-attack them," Bailey offered.

"It would be helpful, Shepard," Garrus said. "The last thing you need is to get shot at a rally being coordinated by Terra Firma. There are no fish tanks to help you escape."

The light jab coaxed laughter out of the gathered crew and Bailey. Small as the relief was, it helped to settle the rattled nerves.

"Very funny, Garrus," Shepard retorted, smiling at his joke. "Do you want to join the sniper team?" He nodded. "Okay, Bailey could you give Garrus a ride? The sooner he and your team have a look at the area, the better."

"You got it, Shepard," Bailey said before he and Garrus left.

"What about the rest of us, Shepard?" Miranda asked.

Of those who originally came to the apartment only Miranda, Tali, EDI, Liara and Diana remained, excluding Shepard.

Diana wasn't a fighter; they needed her to start putting together her story to get all of this information out to the public. But the rest of them could fight and would be able to provide backup to Shepard should another fight happen or to help C-Sec secure any Saracino followers.

"Diana, I want you to head back to the Normandy to do your report. It's the safest place I can think of and you won't have to worry about being interrupted."

Diana didn't argue with the facts. She nodded in understanding and left with her drone.

"The rest of you I want shadowing me at this rally. I trust Garrus and the sniper team, but I also want eyes on the ground just in case."

Miranda and the rest of the crew nodded.

It was about time they hit Terra Firma back.

* * *

Jack couldn't wait to take Kelham down. For all the pain he caused today, he earned his place squarely at the top of her shit list. Saracino was up there too, tied for the coveted first place prize of who got her biotic boot up their ass, but for now the slimy politician wasn't her mission.

She probably wouldn't even get a swing at him, unfortunately. He could use a good biotic bitch slap; that or a biotic kick to the balls.

It was a hard choice.

Instead of getting hung up on a target she wouldn't get to touch, Jack turned her focus to Kelham—the petty son of a bitch who provided the bombs to tear apart innocent lives after surviving a nightmare war.

Anger still ran hot through her veins, its biting venom flowing through her heart down to the tips of her toes and back. Yet Jack kept it controlled. Her foot didn't tap against her will, her heart didn't hammer against her chest and her biotics weren't tickling her skin in violent rage.

Blind rage wouldn't help anyone.

She was pissed, would be until Saracino and Kelham got what was coming to them, but wallowing in her darker emotions would endanger the mission and the team.

There was more at stake here than her desire to rip their spines out in righteous vengeance. Somewhere out there was a bomb with Ambassador Osoba's name etched into it.

Jack didn't know shit about the man or his policies or about politics in general; she wasn't what anyone would call a political creature. Honestly, she held about the same interest in politics as she did in having a threesome with an Elcor and a Hanar—no amount of alcohol or drugs could make her willingly take part in either. But even though she didn't care for politics, she understood how serious this shit was.

_If we don't find the bomb, Osoba gets blown into a million pieces and Saracino attempts to take hold of all of humanity's political power._

Yeah, that was _so_ not allowed to happen. The Sol System was all of their homes for the time being. Nobody wanted to hear some anti-alien assholes spewing their racist bullshit, and no one wanted them in a position of power where they could make shit more difficult than it already was.

If they had any hope of fixing the Relay and reconnecting the galaxy, they needed the same unity that gave them a chance to defeat the Reapers.

Terra Firma would fuck that up given the chance.

_Assholes._

Jack rested her head back against her seat, frowning when her ponytail made it less comfortable than she wanted it to be. _Damn hair._ If she hadn't grown so fond of it, she'd chop it off and shave her head again. Less maintenance and she wouldn't have this stupid bunched up hair ruining her relaxation right now.

Sighing in frustration, she leaned forward and braced her weight on her knees. The ride to Kelham was a whole bunch smoother than her first drop onto a Reaper infested Earth. Shit, that was fucked up. Fighting for her life was simple, but sitting back and listening to shuttles get blown up around them, fearing it was them getting shot hadn't been a fun in the slightest.

Smoothness aside, Jack felt restless. Every second they didn't act was a second for the bomb to go off. She wanted to get Kelham, disarm the bomb and take down Terra Firma already so everything could get back to the post-war recovery normal.

The same normal that existed mere hours ago.

_"And those who chose to do this will be dead by the end of the day."_

Damn right they would be.

"What exactly is our plan here, Love?" Tara's voice drew the attention of the entire shuttle to her, Ghost and Darian. The trio stood near the cock-pit, their hands grasping the safety bars to keep themselves steady.

"Well, that depends. Are you looking for the simple explanation or the long and involved one?" Ghost asked in return to his lover's question, wearing his usual smirk.

"You know me, Love: I'm all for going over every detail no matter how long it takes." Tara winked at him.

"That I do."

"I really didn't need to know that," James muttered.

Jack smiled at him. "What's wrong, Muscles? Worried they might have an _appetizer_ before the big fight?"

James sighed. "Really? You're bringing that up _now_?"

"Okay Talons, Team Normandy, listen up."

Jack shot a grin at the muscular soldier then looked over to the purple eyed N7. His omni-tool was open with schematics of the warehouse on display for all of them to see.

"Our best guess at resistance at this warehouse is probably a dozen mercenaries of varying skill. Once we land on the roof, me and my guys are going to enter through a skylight here."

A red circle appeared on the skylight his squad would enter from. "Now I'm nearly positive that the IFF we have isn't going to fool them because let's face it, who the hell could survive going against you guys plus us?"

_Damn right._ Jack shared an arrogant smirk with her teammates.

"We're really the distraction team. We want to bait Kelham and his goons out of the shadows," Ghost explained.

The Normandy team shared nods. She could work with the plan he cooked up. As they crashed through to distract Kelham's goons, she and the others would sneak in to flank and destroy the resistance before the fight spiraled out of control.

Quick and clean.

"So we're glorified bait? Why doesn't that ever surprise me?" Darian mused.

"Well people just like to shoot at us, so why not make ourselves appear as if we are cornered rats? It's worked every time so far," Ghost retorted.

"You make Lola seem sane, Loco," James said.

"Sounds like we're the door kickers," Jack pointed out.

Ghost gave a nod. "In a few short words, yes you are. There's a fire escape here and here. Split into teams of two and enter from both sides." Red circles popped up on the sides of the building. "When we crash through, use these codes to get in the doors without setting off an alarm."

The purple eyed N7 sent the codes through to the four then continued by pulling up a red circle on the inside of the building overlooking where his team would land on the ground floor.

"There's a catwalk that runs where the doors are. Building plans show they are completely solid so no one should be able to see you four unless there is a guard up there. If there is, try to take him out silently otherwise we'll use his scream as the signal to kill the guards who showed up," Ghost explained.

"Sounds like we're expecting to get in a fight either way," Tara said, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Yeah." Ghost nodded in agreement. "We're going to be right in everyone's line of sight. Once I give the signal I need you to create a biotic bubble around us. I don't know how long our shields and your normal barriers will last against their direct gunfire."

"The warehouse may have cover for you four to use if it's full," James offered.

"Maybe, but I'm hoping the gunfight isn't drawn out too long. Once the signal is given whether from me or if you guys get spotted, I want you to rain hell on anyone who isn't Kelham. He'll probably be the only one without a gun or wearing a suit. If I can, I'll grab him as a human shield to ensure he doesn't get caught in our gunfire," Ghost said.

"Sounds like this is going to be fun," Grunt stated, grinning as he did.

Jack smirked at her comrade. "That's if you can keep up, Tiny."

"Oh I can keep up. I was more worried about you Jack. You've gotten softer since the Collectors," Grunt challenged back.

Jack's brow set in a harmless glare. "Don't test me, Tiny. I'll biotically kick your ass to Pluto and back."

Grunt grinned. "Think you can manage that? Wouldn't want a Harvester to knock you out."

Ouch. That stung a little. "When I get my hands on that old man, I swear I'll tear his head off!" she growled.

Zaeed was a dead man for sharing _that_ particular bit of information with anyone.

She pointed a finger at Grunt. "And then I'm going to punt you out an airlock to Pluto, fly over there and punt your quad so hard they'll pop out your nose and burn up in Earth's atmosphere!"

"Ha!" Grunt barked a laugh.

"Creative, for a primitive," said Javik.

"You'll have to put a lot of effort in to do that. Not me, though," Grunt retorted. He lifted a single finger and poked her in the arm. "One finger is all I need to take you down!"

"And Grunt goes for the kill with his finger of doom," James goaded.

"Is that so? I don't even need a finger. I just have to use my mind to flay you alive!" she shot back.

Their debate continued on like that for almost a full minute, both grinning as they tried to get the last word. It helped eased the tension and lighten the spirits of all on-board.

Eventually the time for banter ended.

"Captain, we're approaching the landing pad. I've already gotten us clearance to land but we won't have a lot of time to get the rappelling equipment attached. It's going to be tight," Carson informed from the cockpit.

"Understood. Darian, Tara, grab your gear and get ready. Carson, put this thing on auto-pilot and grab yours as well." Ghost turned to the Normandy squad. "You guys ready?"

"Hell yeah," Jack responded.

Ready to kick ass and get shit back to normal.

"I am ready," Javik answered.

"Ready when you are, Loco," James said.

"Ready," Grunt said.

_Let's take these bastards down._

The N7 Talons grabbed their gear and waited near the doors, eyes serious as they prepared for their distraction. The Normandy team lined up with their guns at the ready.

As soon as the shuttle began to land, Ghost opened the door and jumped out with his squad to head for the skylight. With them out, the Normandy team followed, splitting into two groups of two; on one squad was Javik and James while Jack teamed up with Grunt on the other.

All three teams headed for their designated entry points. Jack and Grunt did their best to hustle down the fire escape without too much ruckus, the latter of the pair facing the greatest difficulty due to his size.

Luckily Grunt wasn't a freshly "born" tank-bred berzerkopath anymore. He was a well-trained solider and a squad leader in his own right with berzerkopath tendencies.

He knew how to operate here with his size to keep silent, even if it was against his nature.

Grunt took cover at the door as Jack opened her omni-tool and prepared to hack through on Ghost's order.

"Team Normandy, you ready?" Ghost's voice came over the comm.

Oh hell yeah she was ready. These bastards were dead when she got her hands on them.

"Yep," Jack answered.

"Yes," Javik responded.

"All right. Breaching in three, two, one." Gunfire erupted from the rooftop and was followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Grunt nodded at her to go. Using Ghost's hacking program, she opened the door, sticking in a low crouch as she and Grunt peeked into the warehouse for any sign of guards. "Clear. Let's go, Jack," the Krogan said.

"Keep low, Tiny."

The two moved into the warehouse, hunched down in a crouch and moving quickly but not carelessly towards their objective: the catwalk. As they moved behind cover to check another corner Ghost's voice rang throughout the warehouse.

"Come out Kelham! You're under arrest for so many crimes that I don't feel like listing them off!" Ghost ordered.

Jack could hear the sounds of boots on the ground floor moving into position, no doubt belonging to Kelham's goons. _Just as Ghost expected._

Slow clapping followed, sarcasm dripping in every crack of the two palms together.

"Stay against cover, Tiny. A guard is looking this way," she whispered.

Grunt hummed in acknowledgement. "Any chance you can Warp her vocal chords into dust?"

Jack suppressed a snort and shook her head. "Nah. Not at this distance anyways. Muscles is about to take her down, no worries."

James crept up behind the guard, omni-blade at the ready to meet the flesh of its victim. As he reached the guard he covered her mouth and stabbed his blade straight through her spine, severing it and bringing the body down out of sight.

"All right, let's move."

"Well done, well done. You've caught me."

The smugness in Kelham's voice made Jack's skin tingle, her biotics all but begging to be unleashed on him. This _bastard_ supplied bombs to kill refugees and had his men put Kasumi in critical condition. Men who dared to say they should rape her to send a message, and he wanted to act like he was untouchable?

_Stay calm. Stay focused. He'll get his in the end._

"Drop your guns, you know you're surrounded and out gunned."

"You hear that guys? It looks like our gig is over. It appears we have been outsmarted by this man and have no choice but to give up and accept death on our hands and knees." Small laughs echoed from the two Turian's and Tara. "Give it up, Kelham. You can no longer hide after helping Terra Firma bomb the refugee camp, hurt our friend and plan to assassinate the human ambassador."

Grunt snatched another armed guard from cover and knocked him unconscious with a head-butt before he could even scream. He stamped on his neck after the guard crumbled to the floor to put a permanent end to them.

Guards taken care of, they crossed the catwalk to regroup with James and Javik. "You two manage okay?" James asked.

"We're good, Muscles. You two?"

"These primitives should be ashamed of what they call 'guarding.'"

"Yeah," Grunt agreed.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kelham questioned.

"Oh you didn't know? The final bomb is meant for the human ambassador. Now how long do you think you'll last once C-Sec finds your name written all over the bomb?" Ghost asked.

Jack and James peeked over the cover to see what was going on.

"Looks like a dozen or so guards," James said.

"Chump in the suit is Kelham. Still looks like a prick," Jack said.

Kelham approached Ghost, the only Talon with his gun lowered. "You're bluffing."

"Oh no, I assure you I'm not. How do you think I found you? You were the fall guy Kelham, nothing more," Ghost said. Before Kelham could respond, the purple eyed N7 grabbed him and turned him into a human shield. Tara summoned a biotic bubble around her team an instant later. "Unleash hell!"

And it was hell they unleashed.

* * *

During her tenure in Cerberus, Miranda learned to ignore blatant xenophobia when it was expressed around her, tuning it out by metaphorically dunking her head into water anytime her enhanced hearing picked up hints of it.

As nonsensical vibrations of sound she could do her work _without_ listening to someone blame aliens for the most ludicrous of reasons. There were more important matters requiring her attention, none of which included debating how they could learn a thing or two from alien species.

Tact and discretion from the Asari, for starters.

Personally, Miranda disagreed with hiring xenophobes into Cerberus. If Cerberus was to help advance humanity it couldn't rely on closed-minded individuals. Diplomacy and deals needed to be struck at times with the other species, and quite frankly unity was needed for survival.

She wanted humanity to be strong, yes, but she didn't want them to become tyrannical leaders of the galaxy, forcing the other species to kiss their ring and kneel before them as if they were kings or queens.

Some members of Cerberus, including their leader by the end of it, believed that to be the best destination for their future. Humanity ruling over the galaxy with their apparent wisdom; wisdom, mind you, that nearly destroyed their homeworld before spaceflight and kept them divided for years by skin color, country of origin, economic placement, sexuality and religion.

Being in the vicinity of Terra Firma's rally reminded Miranda why she ignored the xenophobes of Cerberus—she hated their ignorance. Spewing catchphrases like "Remember Shanxi" and other such nonsense, led by their shepherds like the sheep they were in chants for human dominance.

Every single one of them were mindless drones no different than the Collectors or Reapers indoctrinated subjects.

How many of them actually understood what happened on Shanxi? How many of them were actually effected by any of the losses during the First Contact War or in any of the Batarian raids? In a crowd of more than twenty people, maybe five? All the others were here to blame aliens for problems they weren't responsible for.

_No different than the ones in Cerberus._

Miranda knew she was no saint. Her past affiliation with Cerberus and even being tied by DNA to her father proved her hands weren't clean of mistakes by any means.

Watching the crowd, she couldn't help but wonder how many of these people truly believed in what they were saying and how many were here looking for their place in this vast galaxy.

How many of them were angry because of past pain?

How many were afraid because they didn't know where they belonged?

How many were searching for a reason to keep living?

How many simply needed someone to reach out and show them their value?

Before working on the Normandy, Miranda thought she believed fully in the Illusive Man's mission, yet when confronted with Jack's past, David Archer and her boss's desire to keep the Collector Base, her loyalty shattered.

She didn't regret her time in Cerberus. Without it she wouldn't have been able to protect her sister for so long or end up on Shepard's squad—the latter of which allowed her to be a part of her sister's life and eventually stop her father.

_I wonder if the truth about Saracino and Terra Firma will show some of these people the value of unity._

She hoped. If someone stubborn like her wasn't a lost cause, perhaps some of these supporters weren't either.

In the end, though, she wasn't here to be the outreaching hand. She was here to do her part in bringing down Charles Saracino and Terra Firma. While Shepard confronted the man personally and Garrus provided sniper support, she would be on the ground scouting for suspicious characters and the more extreme supporters helping Saracino reach his goal.

It could be no one but her. At a human-centric rally with anti-alien beliefs, an Asari, Quarian and unshackled AI would stand out among the crowd of humans like…well, like an Asari, Quarian and unshackled AI at a Terra Firma rally.

She would still need to keep a low profile; couldn't risk any of them possibly recognizing her even if she didn't wear her old spandex outfit.

This all felt rather ironic really. Miranda Lawson, a once top Cerberus operative, was about to use the skills she honed in the organization with anti-alien sentiments to take down an anti-alien terrorist.

It was perfect.

"Shepard, the sniper team is in position," Garrus came over the comm.

_Time to move then._ With Garrus and the C-Sec snipers in position, Shepard would begin her approach on Saracino and stir the crowd with what Miranda was certain would be a rousing speech.

"All right, Garrus. See anything?" Shepard asked.

"No, but that only means they could be waiting for a signal. Don't worry Shepard, we'll keep you covered."

"Miri, are you all ready?" the commander asked.

"We're ready, Shepard," she answered.

She would be the one closest to the rally, but EDI, Tali and Liara were in position to provide whatever support was necessary. Could be protecting Shepard, could be helping C-Sec restrain the extremists—it would depend on what the situation called for. Either way, they were all ready to go.

"Okay, time to bring this guy down."

Shepard crossed the distance to Saracino. The man didn't see her approaching through the crowd of people, too busy speaking to the reporter Al-Jilani at the front of the rally.

Although Saracino did not notice, there were individuals who did notice the red hair and N7 sweater. The average citizen was only surprised the savior of the galaxy appeared; the extremists were unable to hide their shock or their snarls.

_You've made this too easy._

A pitiful display of amateurism on their behalf. Not worthy of calling themselves real agents.

"Miranda, did you notice?" Liara asked over the comm.

"Yes. There may be professionals among them better at concealing their identities, though, so those few may not be all of them." She casually moved from her position towards the rally. "I'm going to move in closer in case they're armed."

Shepard could summon a barrier for protection, but Miranda didn't want to run the risk of any innocent bystander accidently getting shot in the chaos. There was another risk in Saracino himself being armed, for which a quick barrier may not suffice depending on his weapon of choice.

"EDI, can you scan Saracino for a weapon?"

"Scanning." A pause. "Affirmative. He wields an M-6 Carnifex."

"Hm." Miranda frowned.

Shepard would have to react fast with her biotics to prevent severe injury or death. But a strong enough barrier to protect from a Carnifex round at that close of range required power and focus in equal measure, something she might not be able to pull off in a quick altercation.

_Too risky._ "Tali, Mr. Saracino is in dire need of a sabotaged weapon. Could you give it to him?"

"Oh, of course, Miranda! I would _love_ to give him this gift." Tali's innocent voice brought a smile to Miranda's lips she schooled quickly. Now wasn't the time for smiles.

She infiltrated the crowd near the back, keeping herself in a position to see the movements of any target while also keeping Shepard in view.

Searching her surroundings, she took note of the C-Sec guards set around the rally, their original mission to keep the peace between the rally and protesters.

Their mission remained relatively the same, though now they were waiting for the order to arrest the Terra Firma extremists, aware of their role in the original bombing and plan to assassinate the Ambassador thanks to Bailey.

Needless to say, they were observing the rally with the trained and wary eyes of officers who experienced one Cerberus coup too many.

"Excuse me Commander, but are you saying that Charles Saracino is the one behind the bombing at the refugee camp?" Al-Jilani questioned Shepard.

Shepard wasn't wasting any time cutting to the heart of the issue, it seemed. And by some of the traded looks between the few extremists she spotted, they could see their plan crumbling before their eyes.

Murmurs moved through the crowd from the average citizen, but Miranda didn't care to listen. Her eyes and mind remained dialed in on her real objective; anything else was superfluous information she filtered out.

"I'm not one for beating around the bush Khalisah. I've seen the nightmares of the Reapers firsthand and lost friends in the war against them. This entire war has left me exhausted of politicians who would do everything to destroy every good thing that has come out of that forsaken war.

"So you tell me, _Mr. Saracino_," she spat his name. "Why exactly do you think humans should continue to stand alone against all the races who bled for Earth in order to give us the chance to end the war?"

"I see a sniper, taking him down," Garrus said.

So there were snipers. The news made Miranda feel slightly uneasy for her safety and Shepard's. Out here in the open, one mistake by the sniper team meant an untimely end for one of them, likely Shepard.

Miranda took in small breath and refocused. _Garrus and the sniper team will handle the snipers. I have to be prepared for an attack down here._

These extremists may have biotics, guns or bombs on their person. Any one of those could lead to even more innocent blood staining the ground today.

She would not allow that to happen.

Shepard didn't stop her relentless assault of light to the shadows Saracino shielded his actions in. She moved to the discovery of Claude Menneau, the investigator who lost his life in the bombing and the Cerberus agent serving as bodyguard one after another.

Khalisah's head pivoted between the two as if she was watching them hit a ball back and forth between them, intrigue and faith in Shepard's words clear on her face—surprisingly enough.

"Mr. Saracino, what do you have to say about these…damning allegations?" she asked.

"Oh I wasn't done yet—"

"Another sniper down."

_Good._ One less sniper, one less problem. But the targets in the crowd were beginning to suspect interference. Their eyes darted around to what could possibly be the location of their sniper teams where no shots came from. Desperation to silence Shepard was growing, which meant she needed to be prepared for the coming attack.

"I contacted an agent of the Shadow Broker because I couldn't stand the fact that, after everything we did to stop Cerberus, a group of humans had blown up a refugee camp. After some research he found logs of credits being transferred from an account known to be connected to a high up Cerberus official to Saracino."

"These accusations are ridiculous and the result of a muddled mind due to the war," Saracino interrupted.

Clearly Saracino was feeling the desperation as well. Things were spiraling out of his control right before his eyes. Soon he would see his entire plan burn to ash if he couldn't somehow turn Shepard into an unsympathetic figure.

Unfortunately for the politician, Commander Shepard had more clout than him.

The reporter visibly frowned at the man then turned her attention back to Shepard after she did. "A high up official? Do you have a name?"

"You can't be serious," Saracino said in disbelief that seemed genuine.

"No, not a real name but it's one I know all too well." Shepard's pause before answering it made her reveal all the more dramatic. "The Illusive Man."

"Interesting. Do you have these logs to show, Commander?" Khalisah asked.

Some of the extremists began speaking into their comms—a bad sign.

"They're preparing to move," Liara supplied information from their hacked comms.

"Inform C-Sec and be prepared for anything," Miranda ordered. She believed she spotted those working directly for Saracino among this crowd, all of whom stood far closer to the front than her. _I need to move in, now._

Miranda did her best to shift and move through the crowd unseen, closer and closer to the spotted targets to restrain them.

"On me? No. Only because of how sensitive the information was I couldn't risk it falling into the wrong hands or being wiped if a decent hacker was about. But it will come to light very soon along with many other details we found, for instance his planned assassination on Ambassador Osoba."

That had been the last straw for Saracino and his people. The leader of Terra Firma pulled out a gun and aimed it right at Shepard's forehead, unaware of the sabotage already done to it. His actions spurred his men to follow suit, pulling out their weapons or summoning biotics as they started to push closer to the front of the crowd

Saracino's heatsink venting signaled the time to strike.

"He has a gun! Get down!" someone yelled. Panic took control, innocent people scattering or ducking down to guard loved ones. Miranda didn't approve of the chaos, but she couldn't deny it revealed the Terra Firma agents among them far easier.

"A large force is moving in on your position, Shepard," EDI came over the comm.

"I'll back Miranda up. Liara, you and EDI take care of the reinforcements!" Tali said.

"Okay."

Miranda was already acting. Her biotics swirled around her as she pushed through the crowd and picked her first target. One of the extremists, a short woman with dark hair, raised her weapon to shoot Shepard.

She never got a shot off.

A biotic force lifted her and slammed her into the ground, the fight in her dissipating with a gasp of pain. Surprised by the action, her comrades turned to face the new threat but found their hesitation to be their greatest mistake.

A trained agent would have rolled away from their original position and used the action to turn to face their new enemy. From their new position they would try to counterattack or find cover, depending on the field of battle or enemy they were facing.

These fools weren't prepared for the Overload electric shock or the second biotic assault that snatched the largest man of the group and tugged him face forward through the air and to Miranda's feet.

Miranda kicked his gun away and planted her leg over his neck to keep him in place as she prepared another display of biotic superiority. Tali crept up behind the remaining two unaware and stunned enemies, quickly taking down the woman of the pair to the ground and placing her boot knife to her throat as her drone zapped the final enemy into submission.

It took barely a minute to subdue their targets.

Quick, clean and efficient; it couldn't have gone any better than this.

The C-Sec officers rushed over to the downed targets and relieved Tali and Miranda of them after omni-cuffing the group.

With everything settled, Miranda regrouped with Tali after casting a glance over to Shepard. The redhead had Saracino pinned chest first to the ground, his arm bent at an awkward angle and her knee pinned hard into his back.

_Safe._

She wanted to breathe a sigh of relief but held onto it. Her eyes darted around in search of Liara and EDI and found them meandering over, no worse for wear after their altercation.

C-Sec officers were in the distance behind them dragging away the reinforcements in cuffs. Only a few extremists appeared to have bullet wounds, though it was to be expected with the size of their group.

"Ghost, did you get the information on the bomb from Kelham?" Shepard asked into their comm.

Miranda exhaled. _Seems it's finally over._

"Shepard I— oh fuck. Ambassador, get down!"

An explosion filled the comm before cutting to static.

Eyes widening in horror, Miranda turned to look at Shepard, as if by some means she could see the status of Ghost and his team by looking at her.

Shepard wasn't a crystal ball to reveal the future, unfortunately. Her blue eyes showed her hints of fear of what might have just happened as she kept her finger pressed to her ear.

"Ghost? Ghost do you read me?" Static and nothing else. "Ghost if this is supposed to be one of your jokes then you got me and it's not funny," Shepard tried to connect to him again.

Only static.

Underneath Shepard's knee, Saracino began laughing at her in what he probably assumed was his victory. Shepard, in no mood for him, promptly punched him in the back of his head hard enough to knock him unconscious.

Miranda wished she could have done more. Instead she could only stand in silence, fearing the worst but hoping by some means the entire team made it out unscathed.

_Don't be dead. Please, don't let him have killed anyone else._

"Darian, do you read me?" Shepard asked.

"Hold on, Commander." His voice was struggled, but at least it wasn't static. A small silver lining about to be torn down by sorrow. "Tara, you can't do anything! If you jump after him you'll only get yourself killed!"

"Let go of me Darian!" the Asari shouted back, her voice cracking.

"Carson, close the damn door and get us down there now! That's an order!" Darian shouted at the pilot.

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut. _Damn it._ Their panic filled voices, the crack of Tara's voice, it could only mean Ghost was at the source of this. Her heart sunk into depths where the pressure made her heart ache for what could be the end of a good man's life.

A man with plenty of people who still loved and cared for him.

"I see them! They landed in the Presidium Lake but they look….they don't look conscious," Carson said, changing his sentence before uttering the weighted word no one wanted to believe.

"Bring us in close, Carson. We'll use our biotic's to pull them out."

_They_ clearly referred to the Ambassador as well. "He must have dove with the Ambassador into the lake," Miranda murmured to herself.

Shepard got off of Saracino when a C-Sec officer came over to take him into custody. Miranda and the others joined her. The entire mood was synchronized in despondence. One of Shepard's hands remained curled in a fist, shaking in bubbling frustration at yet another life loss.

"No matter what happens, Shepard, you can't blame yourself," Liara attempted to comfort.

"I know."

She did know, they all did, but it didn't make it any easier.

"Tara, wake the fuck up! He doesn't have a pulse and I have no idea what the hell I'm doing!" Darian shouted in an attempt to get through to his teammate.

What followed was one of the most heartbreaking moments Miranda could recall experiencing. Tara's choked voice counted the chest compressions over and over again as she performed CPR, voice failing now and then as she tried to contain her sorrow.

Every choked number tore at Miranda's heart, but she continued to listen, hopeful the next number would revive him.

Tara's broken sobs for her lover killed her hope.

"Fuck," Darian cursed.

Again Miranda could only ask herself: If ghosts of their past would continue to haunt them and harm the people they cared for, could any of them ever truly find their normal?

Could they ever be free of the shackles of their past?

* * *

Ghost liked to say the heart was like a rare gem; time and circumstance could scuff it up and wear it down, even shatter it, yet if it ever found loving hands it could shine brighter than the stars.

Tara's heart had been worn down in the past, but then Ghost's loving hands embraced her and helped her to shine with the same purity his soul was made of…but what she felt now could only be the shattering of her heart.

Every pulsation of the broken organ sent more agony throughout her body, agony matched only by the horror of who she lost. Warm tears streamed down her cheeks, the rivers of sorrow her broken heart unleashed accented by ragged sobs that shook her entire body down to her bones.

Tara buried her face in the unresponsive chest of her lover. Her arms clung to him in some sort of vain hope the Goddess wouldn't steal him from her if she held his physical form hard enough.

This was…This was all so wrong! Ghost wasn't supposed to die yet. They still had dreams to chase, peace to find, a family to start. Yet…Yet he was…he was…

Another broken sob escaped Tara as she squeezed her eyes shut tighter.

Tara had always known Ghost would die before her. Asari's lived for upwards of a thousand years while humans barely made it above a single century. By natural lifespans alone she was guaranteed to live many centuries without him or the majority of their friends.

When she realized her love for Ghost was once in a lifetime, an eternal and unique love she would never experience again, it filled her with overwhelming joy and sorrow. Joy for finding this pure hearted person who cherished her as much as she cherished him. Sorrow because she only had a century to spend with him.

_"I'll give you a century of memories then. We'll make the most of every moment we have together, that way you have no regrets when you look back hundreds of years from now."_

He promised her that before the war started, and she held onto it throughout the entirety of the war to this very day. She never wanted to look back at their time together and wish she had said this or done that when she had the chance.

But now…now she didn't even have the ability to create those memories.

Ghost was gone. Those words…Those three simple words tore her insides apart as if she swallowed glass. His brilliant light, his love, their future…everything they could have done, every minute they might have shared together, all snatched away in the blink of an eye without remorse.

Why? Why would the Goddess take his life but not the perpetrators behind this attack? Why did they still live yet the man she loved did not?

Hadn't they suffered enough?

Peace was supposed to be on their horizon. They were meant to be working towards their new life; a life where they could settle down, start a family and leave all the battles behind them for the tranquility they longed for.

"_My heart, my soul, my love and what time I have in this galaxy are yours. Forever."_

Tara's fingers curled into the wet fabric of his shirt, body shuddering as her anguish swelled.

None of this was supposed to happen. Ghost should still be here wearing that charming smile of his as he made a witty remark about diving into the Presidium Lake.

_Why did you leave me so soon?_ A body quaking sob left her. _Please, I beg you, don't leave me behind like this! Come back to me, Love. Please._

No amount of begging would change what she knew to be true in her heart. Her heart could feel he was gone. The absence of the soul it was entwined with left behind a shattered fragment of a whole it could never replace.

"_And whenever that time is up…Promise me you won't stop living life, because if I check in on you and find you miserable, I'm going to start using my powers as a spirit to scare the living hell out of you."_

How could he possibly think she could keep living life happily without him in it? How could he expect her to find light when her brightest star was gone?

_ "You're not going anywhere. Not today or tomorrow or years from now. Not until we find our peace and you give me my horde."_

She wished those words were true. Damn it, she wanted Ghost to shake her awake from this terrible nightmare and embrace her again. To calm her fears and ease her pains by holding her close to him so she understood he was still here.

She wanted to hear him tell her everything was okay, that it was only a nightmare and he wasn't going anywhere. Not until their little blue horde had enough memories to always remember their loving father.

But she wasn't going to wake up in their cabin on The Setting Sun, was she? She wouldn't ever get to see him smile again, or hear him laugh or feel his beautiful mind as they melded together. She wouldn't get to see him interact with their friends or find his peace or hold their adorable daughters…because Ghost was gone.

"Tara, move," Darian told her forcefully.

In her sorrow she had forgotten he was here. Ghost's best friend, his Turian brother, how much pain was his heart experiencing? Was it too weeping for the loss of his best friend?

Anger and hurt resonated in his steel blue eyes. It bubbled up to the surface in what would be his last ditch effort to revive Ghost…an effort that would likely fail. But if by some small chance what Darian did brought her lover back, she would thank him for the rest of her life.

She let go of her lover and watched Darian program an electrical charge into his omni-tool. Then he let out a wordless shout and slammed his fist into Ghost's chest.

"So you are just going to fucking quit?!" he shouted at the man, his tone carrying every ounce of his pain and rage.

He slammed his fist into his chest again.

"After all the shit we went through?!"

Tara's mind betrayed her and brought forth memories of their time together. Their talks in the Engine Room, small moments of tenderness and affection, moments that made her eyes well with more tears. _Ghost, please come back._

Another punch.

"You're just going to leave your friends?!"

The entire team would feel the severing of their bond with Ghost. It was a pain Tara wasn't sure they could come back from. _I'm begging you, please…_

Another punch.

"You're going to leave your lover?!"

She flinched, his physical strike somehow transmitting across her own chest. _Please, come back. Let us share a hundred years of memories and our horde. Give me one last opportunity to give you the peace you sought for so long._

Another punch.

"You!" Ghost's affectionate smile flashed in her mind.

Punch.

"Self!" His laugh echoed next.

Punch.

"Centered!"

"_Tara…Thank you for never giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself."_

Punch.

"Piece!"

"_I love you, Tara."_

Punch.

"Of shit!"

"_Promise me you won't stop living life."_

Punch.

…

Nothing.

Darian punched the floor of the shuttle and let out an angered scream. "Damn it Ghost! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

More tears spilled over. Sniffles and shudders began to start again as her heartbreak took center stage.

_ Please…don't leave._

Darian clamped both of his hands together and created a biotic field mixed with electricity. "Wake up!" He slammed them into his chest.

…

Ghost remained lifeless.

Darian let out ragged breaths as he stared at his hands, agony in his steel blue eyes from the loss dealt to them and his incapability to change it.

Tara collapsed forward onto Ghost's chest again. _I'm sorry, Ghost_. She grit her teeth and held him tighter. _I'm sorry…I'm so sorry I couldn't save you._

"Spirits...guide him to our fallen friends…and then have them kick his ass," Darian whispered quietly.

The shuttle fell silent and still after his words, all except Tara's cries of agony for the loss of her heart. Ambassador Osoba, though in pain and drenched, did live because of Ghost cushioning his fall.

Tara should have been happier they fulfilled their mission and prevented another tragedy, but how could she be when it came at the cost of the man she loved?

_My heart will always belong to you._

A promise of undying love. A promise of pain. A promise she couldn't break even if she wanted to.

As she lay there, crying for his loss, Tara came to a painful and startling realization: Tomorrow she would wake up alone. Tomorrow…tomorrow she would begin a life without Ghost…a life where her happily ever after could no longer be achieved.

Tomorrow the galaxy would be dark and colorless, absent of the brightest star in her life and the man who gave her a life worth living.

"It's really hard to breathe…with you on top of me Tara."

Tara snapped up from her stupor of sorrow to see exhausted purple eyes staring back at her.

_Ghost…_

Tears fogged her vision and uneven strangled sobs made it impossible to speak. Her hand reached out to touch him, to confirm he was real, but she stopped halfway, worried if she touched him she would wake up from this wonderful new dream back to the reality where he was gone.

_Is this real?_

"It appears this 'Ghost' human is too stubborn for even death to take him," Javik commented from behind them.

"Ghost." Said man turned his head to look to Darian, who promptly punched him as hard as he could in the face.

He was real!

"Don't you dare ever do that to Tara or me again or I swear I will send you to the Spirits myself!"

Tara couldn't restrain herself any longer. She launched forward and hugged her grounded lover, kissing him on the cheek before burying her face into his shoulder. "I love you. I love you so much," she cried into his shoulder.

"And I love you," he whispered, an arm wrapping around her to let her know he was still here, _alive_ and most definitely real.

Darian stood up to tell Carson to get them to Huerta Memorial, leaving Tara and Ghost alone in their embrace.

"You came back," she whispered.

"I had a promise to keep," he whispered back.

Tara relinquished her grip to crash her lips against his in a short but emotion filled kiss. Afterwards she helped him sit up and latched onto him again, refusing to let him go the entire ride to Huerta Memorial Hospital.

Her heart was back, and she wouldn't let it go this time.


	18. Chapter 18: I've Got Your Back

Chapter 18

I've Got Your Back

Miranda beat her fists against Shepard's punching bag, her chosen rhythm a quick tempo of jabs, crosses, hooks and the occasional kick to release every ounce of pent up frustration on this inanimate object.

Two restless nights of tossing and turning left Miranda in a foul mood. Recent events flooded her with feelings she wasn't used to, and questions she feared the answers to pestered her relentlessly. But now she finally found the time to decompress.

The bag became her target.

Ice cold eyes zeroed in on the object as if it was a dangerous enemy. Bouncing on the balls of her feet to keep her heartrate up, sweat drenched her skin and soaked her raven tresses; her white tank top clung to her skin, wet and warm, as her fists remained up in a guard.

Finally she struck. Sweat flung off her skin from a quick combo of jabs echoed by exhaled breaths. She finished with a hard hook and stepped back to prepare her next attack, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When it came, she stepped forward, core tightened as her leg came up for a high kick. The kick landed and left the bag swinging, so she hopped back and bounced on her toes again, ignoring the aches and general exhaustion of her body for further stress relief.

Two days had passed since Terra Firma's attempt to seize power through assassinations. Intense scrutiny by the population of the Sol System fell on them in the wake of Diana's thorough report airing.

For every curse at the organization, praises were sung for C-Sec, the Normandy team and the N7 Talons. Confidence in the defenders of the populace increased because of the actions of all involved.

Ghost in particular found himself in popular news after the risk he took to save the Ambassador. Rumor was Ambassador Osoba wanted to put him forward as the next human Spectre, though whether or not the enigmatic man would take the position remained unknown.

Quite frankly, Ghost was fortunate to survive.

"_So you are just going to fucking quit?!"_

Miranda gritted her teeth and assaulted the bag again to drown out the memories.

Beyond the public scrutiny, Terra Firma was now at the center of a massive investigation headed by C-Sec and the Alliance to top off their problems. None of the political figures within the organization or their backers were spared by the investigation, from what Miranda heard at least. The organization may have skated by under the radar in the past, dodging scandals and using the game of politics to avoid the consequences of their rhetoric—that ended now.

Some influential members might pay for their innocence; credits may give them freedom, plea deals may lessen their sentences and some may sneak through the cracks to hide somewhere remote, but they wouldn't escape punishment. No. If they benefited or played a role in the recent attacks, they would not escape from their sins.

The N7 Talons would ensure none escaped, politics be damned.

_Good_. Miranda finished her assault with a hard left hook then stepped back again to bounce on the balls of feet.

Politics or credits shouldn't save any of the people responsible for recent events. Regardless of how small their role was, they aided in the deaths of innocent people. Survivors of a war they barely won.

_They deserve to die for what they caused._

Cold and calculated, just like old times. Killing them wouldn't bring back those who died, but life in prison was a cushioned punishment for the bastards responsible.

Why should they be allowed to breathe the same recycled air as the people who lost loved ones?

Miranda snarled and sprang forward to attack. _Damn them all._

Overall, the entire incident ended well. The parasites had been removed or eliminated before they could multiply and destroy more of their host system than they already had. It was a win. Good triumphed over evil…yet despite the victory achieved, Miranda's mood remained on knives edge.

Unvoiced questions and concerns sourced from the recent incident ate away at her thoughts and kept her restless throughout the night. Lack of sleep frustrated her, leaving her irritable. If she could only confront her internal struggle and put this all to rest, she wouldn't be here right now…but she was too reluctant to confront it all.

_Because you're a coward_, a portion of her mind whispered.

Miranda hated the voice. She hated how it reminded her of her father…

She hated that she knew it was right.

She _was_ being a coward. Miranda was too afraid to confront those questions because she feared what the answers might lead to.

_"Damn it Ghost! Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"_

Shimmering blue surrounded her fist. An audible growl thrummed in her throat as she unleashed a powerful haymaker into the bag. "Damn it!" she cursed.

The bag swung wildly, more than what was safe for the equipment. _I'm not here to break Shepard's possessions._ Sighing through her nose, she stopped the bloody thing from swinging so it wouldn't break. Once it was still again, she placed her hands on her hips and tried to catch her breath.

"This a bad time, Cheerleader?"

Absolutely. This was one of the worst times anyone could come to talk to her, especially Jack. Dark clouds hung over her, the chill of the storm freezing her heart over. Not to mention she was hardly presentable for anyone.

Disheveled mess described her hair quite well, sweat poured off her like a waterfall, and she was in a white shirt no less. The pale skin of her torso and dark sports bra were on display for anyone to see, not that it mattered. Her old spandex outfit could be considered more revealing of her figure than her current state.

There were plenty of logical reasons to tell Jack that, yes this was in fact a bad time. Obviously her emotions weren't fully in check if her biotic display revealed anything. Her thoughts were betraying her, and she didn't want to accidently spit venom at a friend because of her irritable mood.

But Jack wasn't blind. The biotic punch and curse hadn't gone unnoticed; she probably even noticed Miranda's distant mood these last two days, too.

In all likelihood, Jack came here to address the issue when no one else was around the apartment. There'd be no chance to run away from her thoughts if she engaged in this conversation. No choice but to face the answers she feared.

So, against all logic, Miranda shook her head and waved off the woman without looking back. "No, now is fine." She inhaled a deep breath to try to even her labored breathing. "What's on your mind?"

"Shepard called when I was on my way here and said Kasumi's finally awake." Miranda missed a breath at the good news. "Doc's running more tests on her, but so far she's been responsive to her surroundings and hasn't shown any major memory loss. Shepard thinks she'll be out of the hospital and back on her feet soon. Ghost, too. Says he hasn't missed a beat despite nearly dying."

Miranda hummed, nodding once to herself. "That's great news." A rather half-hearted and flat statement for wonderful news.

Jack didn't take it well.

"Then why the hell do you sound like I've told you about clear skies for their funerals?"

"I…" Miranda paused to keep her tongue in check.

Snapping back at Jack served no purpose and wouldn't do anything good. It'd only further this rift between her and everyone else.

Shutting her eyes, she inhaled and exhaled a soothing breath then opened her eyes again.

Jack wasn't the problem here, it was all Miranda. Her thoughts, her stupid emotions and her cowardice were giving her an attitude.

She half turned to look back at Jack. Narrowed eyes pierced her, one hand rested on her hip as the other hung at her side. Even if her body appeared relaxed, Jack was ready to give her a verbal beatdown after such a lackluster response.

Miranda couldn't blame her. In her position, she'd probably feel the same way after what Kasumi went through, and because of how it affected Shepard.

Miranda smiled weakly at her. "I'm sorry." The sincere apology earned her a frown. "Truly, I am happy Kasumi's finally come around and for Ghost's recovery. I've just…"

Her weak smile fell and her eyes averted to the wall the bed rested against. Hide the weakness. Hide the internal struggle as best as she could, even if it meant making it obvious.

"I suppose I've been thinking too much."

She could feel Jack's eyes watching her for a brief yet tense several seconds. Finally, she sighed.

"You and that stupid brain of yours," Jack grumbled.

A soft, breathy laugh escaped Miranda. That hadn't been what she expected to hear from Jack, but perhaps that's why it shone through the dark clouds like rays of sunlight after a storm.

"I suppose that's appropriate."

"Damn right it is." Jack approached her and stood directly in her line of sight, her brown eyes softer and supportive but determined. "I get it if you aren't ready to talk about what's bothering you. I'm not here to tell you to pull your head out of your bubbly butt or force you to talk about whatever it is, but…"

Jack sighed, hints of frustration at herself. "Listen, I'm shit at this whole touchy feely stuff. I know that. But we've confided some serious shit in each other when Shepard was down. That doesn't have to stop because she's awake. If you need an ear or a shoulder, I'm still here, you know? As whatever you need me to be."

Miranda blinked. That was even more unexpected and incredibly mature of Jack. Yet…was Jack under the impression she didn't want to keep pursuing a relationship beyond a friendship? Sure she had been distant these last two days, but had her attitude really given off such a sentiment?

Looking into those chocolate eyes and Jack's last words answered her question with a resounding _yes_.

_I'm such an idiot._

Emotions and relationships clearly were not her greatest strengths.

Intent on fixing at least one of her mistakes today, Miranda took another breath, her heart still pounding hard against her chest from her exercise. "You're not as terrible at being romantic as you think," Miranda said.

Jack cocked an incredulous eyebrow up. "Bullshit."

Miranda smiled at her and gently took Jack's hand into her own. "You're here, aren't you? Going out of your way to remind me I can rely on you to help. You could have easily left me alone with my attitude."

An attitude this small interaction soothed significantly.

Jack rolled her eyes, playing this whole thing off like it wasn't a big deal. "Yeah, I could have, but then you'd end up throwing a biotic temper tantrum. Shepard's apartment received enough damage from the fight. It didn't need you tearing it apart."

The easygoing retort coaxed an amused snort out of Miranda. "I suppose Shepard owes you one. Who knows what kind of disaster I might have caused without your intervention."

"Ah, it's no big deal." Jack smirked. "Someone has to kick your bubbly butt to keep your ego in check. Might as well be me."

"Mm," Miranda hummed a laugh, a smile twisting onto her lips. She had missed this the last two days. "Careful your head doesn't get too big. There are still some tight passageways on the Citadel."

Jack snorted. "That the best you got?"

"For now."

"Hm. Good."

Tightening her grip on her hand, Jack tugged her forward. The action caught Miranda off balance on tired legs and led to her stumbling one step closer to the tattooed woman. Instincts kicked in a second later. She quickly braced herself by placing her free hand on Jack's hip, stopping her sopping wet form from touching her.

Much as she liked the idea of an embrace or a kiss, she really needed a shower and dry clothes beforehand.

This was not the suitable attire for a sentimental moment.

Jack furrowed her brow at her in displeasure and confusion. "Jack, I'm a sweaty mess," Miranda explained.

"And?"

Miranda raised her eyebrows and motioned to her soaking wet tank top. "And the last thing you want is for me to touch you in any way in this state. Your clothes and skin will become soaked if you do."

She rolled her eyes as if it was the most ridiculous statement ever. "Sweat doesn't bother me. You being stuck in your stupid brain and getting all mopey does, so if I gotta get a bit damp to remind you I care, I'll do it and you'll be happy about it."

A very touching sentiment, one she truly did appreciate, but Miranda could feel how soaked she was. As her body temperature still worked its way back to its natural state, the tank top currently attached to her skin plummeted to room temperature. Every shift of movement sent an icy chill across her warm body.

She needed a change of clothes and a shower, for her own sake and Jack's. One hug or whatever Jack planned would leave her drenched in sweat that did not belong to her. Miranda wouldn't stand for it.

"I'll be happier if you let me shower first so you don't get my sweat on you," Miranda said. "Afterwards you can pull me in." _Or boost me up against a wall._

The thought might have been startling if the idea didn't entice her so much.

"Fine," Jack conceded. "You gonna sit your bubbly butt down in here and talk when you're done?"

She shouldn't have been so surprised by Jack's persistence or the care she was showing. _Shepard and those kids really helped you mature so much._

Miranda liked this new Jack. She really did. But…

"Do you really want to hear what's bothering me?" she asked in return.

It was her baggage. Her issues. If Jack didn't really want to hear about it, she didn't have to.

Jack didn't hesitate in nodding. "Yeah. I wouldn't have said I'd be a shoulder or an ear if I didn't mean it."

True, Jack didn't waste her time on pointless sentimentality. Miranda had known that since they met. Her question was a last ditch effort to avoid confronting the problem on the chance the tattooed woman wanted to hear none of it. But she did, and that meant after her shower she'd finally have to face the answers.

"I still need to stretch, but after that and my shower, I'll talk."

"All right. Want privacy when you stretch?"

Miranda tilted her head to the side. "Why would I need privacy?"

"I don't know," Jack shrugged. "Figured it be polite to ask in case you didn't want me in the room when you did."

"Polite? Are you feeling well?" Miranda teased.

"Bite me, Cheerleader."

"Ah, all better." Miranda gave her hand a squeeze before releasing it. "I'm not doing Asari yoga and meditation. It's just a few average stretches. Nothing that requires privacy."

Though even if she had been about to perform an hour long Asari yoga session, she wouldn't mind Jack remaining in the same room as her as she did. It was not as if Asari yoga required her to strip off her clothes and perform a lewd dance. It was just stretching.

Other species tended to sexualize everything Asari related.

This was not to say Miranda did not consider performing one or two poses to flaunt her flexibility. She did. Twice, much to her embarrassment.

Under normal circumstances the thought probably wouldn't even occur to her. However, if she examined this through a clinical microscope she could understand where these thoughts came from.

Exercise naturally elevated the blood flow throughout her entire body and every organ; the production of feel-good endorphins throughout it lowered her stress and frustration—two of the greatest libido killers to ever exist.

With her heartrate still high and her body's internal cocktail still pumping through her veins, it wasn't surprising Jack's presence and their emotional connection triggered arousal and lust based thoughts.

Thoughts where she, instead of stretching and leaving temporarily for a shower, sauntered over to the door to lock them in here to succumb to her more carnal desires. Thoughts where she released her innate need to be in full control of herself and the situation to let Jack call the shots. Let her boost her against a wall or pin her to the floor or bed—she didn't care where so long as she could feel Jack's skin against hers as their lips met again and again.

_I…really need to cool down._ If she didn't, she'd do something reckless. This relationship between her and Jack needed to be more than another outlet for frustration release. She _wanted_ it to be more, and for that reason she would curb her libido to focus on the task at hand.

Carnal desires could be fulfilled later when she wasn't under the influence of her body's cocktail.

"If you say so," Jack said.

"Try not to enjoy the show too much," Miranda jested, softly pushing Jack onto the bed. The tattooed woman rested back on her elbows, a smile pulling onto her lips as she rolled her eyes at the comment.

No more than ten minutes later she finished her stretch and much needed cool down. As she left for the shower, towel and dry clothes in hand, she couldn't stop the satisfied smile from pulling at her lips.

She may have had one brief lapse of self-control. A moment where she thought, _to hell with decency, I'm freezing_, and stripped off her soaking cold tank top for the remaining minutes of her stretch. And she may have held an exotic pose a few seconds longer than necessary when she noticed a set of brown eyes admiring her flexibility—among other things.

_Oops_, she thought without a single regret. She was only human, after all. Imperfect, flawed, and intent on enticing the woman she was attracted to.

Knowing Jack was waiting for her kept Miranda moving at a swift pace. The shower was quick, as was almost every other facet of her routine, with the exception of blow drying her hair. She didn't want to drip all over the place or onto the bed.

Her hair was still a bit damp when she finished, but taking any longer would be rude.

Once done she returned to the bedroom where Jack remained sprawled out on the mattress, boots discarded at the foot of the bed to let her tattooed feet breathe and her jacket lying next to them.

Her head lifted only slightly at her entrance, then tilted as she examined Miranda's new attire. It was nothing extravagant; the simple blue long sleeve and black knee-length shorts had been hastily thrown together as she left her room to come here.

"I'm glad you ditched the catsuit," Jack said before lying her head back down.

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You look…" Jack paused, and from this distance Miranda could see her features scrunch up as she seemingly tried to find the words she wanted to say. "Less bitchy."

_Tactful as always._ Although Miranda would have chosen a less crude description, Jack's observation did hold some validity to it. In her old outfit she carried herself as a professional agent. Her cold demeanor and razor sharp tongue weren't by any means inviting or friendly.

_At least I've moved away from that._

She had been ready to accept that as the end of the conversation, yet Jack continued.

"You're more at ease around everyone since you stopped wearing it. You don't look like you're constantly analyzing every single word we say or like you have better shit to be doing. You look…happier."

Caught off guard completely, Miranda's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she was rendered momentarily speechless. Words would form an instant later, yet because of Jack they would be far more honest than they might have been otherwise.

"I…I suppose I am," she admitted.

The catsuit had been her armor emotionally for a long time. It hid her insecurities behind what appeared to others as unshakable confidence, but it had only been an illusion—a mask to shelter her vulnerability and imperfections from all those who would use them against her.

Frankly, it left her lonelier than she could admit out loud.

Without the mask in this safe environment of comrades and friends, she no longer needed to remain mindful of every little action she took. Not every word needed to be analyzed for hidden meanings. Mistakes weren't scrutinized under a microscope.

She…She _was_ happier. Happy to be free and free to be happy with no strings attached. There was no deceit here or mind games to navigate. No politics to be played or profits to be made. Around her friends and comrades she could be normal, or as close as she could get to it.

_I still have some ways to go._

Jack lifted her head up again and nodded to her. "It's a good look on you." She laid her head back down. "Your catsuit only accented the superficial parts every man and woman wants to drool about."

_Meaning you see something more…You see beyond the superficial layer. But what is it you see?_ Miranda wanted to ask, but she couldn't resist the opening Jack left her for a bit of banter.

Her lips pulled into a coy smile. "Are you referring to my 'fantastic tits' and 'bubbly butt' you are so fascinated with."

Direct hit.

"Ugh," Jack slapped her hand to her forehead, "I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"Probably not, no," Miranda laughed. She'd never get tired of bringing it up if this was the reaction every time.

"Me and my stupid mouth," she grumbled before bracing herself up on her elbows. "First off, shut that damn door. I don't want to chance someone coming back and eavesdropping on us."

A point they agreed on. Miranda shut and locked the door so even Kasumi would have difficulty opening it, smiling the entire time at the slightly flustered look on Jack's face.

When the door was sealed, she crossed her arms across her stomach and waited for the tattooed woman's next point.

It took a moment, but Jack shut her eyes and exhaled a defeated sigh. "All right, yes, I think you've got fantastic tits and a great ass. But that's just superficial shit _you_ showed off to everyone in that stupid spandex outfit," she said, her voice downright accusatory.

"Mmhm," Miranda hummed, thoroughly amused.

Jack was right, of course. Her outfit had been intentionally used to show off the curves of her body. It gave her an edge over targets and coworkers when she needed it to. To admit that, however, wouldn't help her here. So, she chose a different approach.

"I wasn't probing you for a confession, but I appreciate your admiration of my body all the same."

Jack narrowed her eyes. "I hate you."

"No you don't."

Jack huffed and laid back down.

With her victory achieved, Miranda sauntered over to the foot of the bed and braced one knee on it. Her smile faded and her features softened as she spoke again.

"Jack…You've made it clear my body isn't what attracts you to me. The people around me used to only see the surface layer, admittedly because of my own decisions and actions."

Brown eyes met blue.

"But not you. You've seen through it since the beginning. You've never been distracted by my choice of attire and you never wanted to peel me out of it and get me into bed as quickly as you could."

"Where are you going with this, Miranda?" Jack asked, not suspicious but confused by the change of tone in their conversation.

"May I ask what it is you see instead? What is it you see when you look at me?"

Sincere. Vulnerable. This hadn't been one of the questions originally on her mind, but she couldn't deny the question had come up in the past.

What could Jack see in someone like her? If it wasn't for the physical and superficial layer, what then?

Jack reached a hand out. "Give me your hand."

Puzzled but intrigued, Miranda placed her hand in Jack's and let her take control. The tattooed hand gripped hers gently before tugging her onto the bed fully. Miranda braced her other hand on the opposite side of Jack's torso to stop herself from falling directly on top of her. Damp hair draped over her shoulders as she tilted her chin down to look at the woman below her.

Without blinking, Jack grabbed the wrist of her other hand and pulled it off the bed, forcing a bewildered Miranda to fall flush against her tattooed torso. From here their faces were within inches of each other.

Eyes to eyes, nose to nose. Every inhale a reminder of how little distance there was between them.

Miranda might have been perplexed by the sudden change of position, but she was not displeased. She liked to be this close. Enjoyed the way her heart beat quickly against her chest and how warm she felt.

She took pleasure in how the tips of their noses touched now and then in unintentional Eskimo kisses. Savored the intimacy of staring into one another's eyes without their walls up.

Her lower half, which braced and tightened in response to the fall, slowly relaxed against the mattress. Mentally she reminded herself to breathe evenly, to keep a semblance of control over herself and her actions.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Deep, controlled breaths slowly synching in rhythm with Jack's.

The hands holding hers loosened their grip. Freedom. Freedom to choose if she stayed here. Freedom to choose if she moved because she felt uncomfortable with this very new experience. Her silent answer was to interlace the fingers of the hand Jack initially took with her tattooed fingers.

She wanted to stay in this blissful place.

Jack let go of her other hand and cupped her cheek. The warmth of her skin and the gentle touch coaxed Miranda to lean into it.

"When I look at you, it's not your tits or your ass that draws me in, it's these damn eyes of yours," she said, voice tender and barely above a whisper. Her thumb began to caress her cheek as her brown orbs gazed into her soul. "In them I can see your scars, your fears, your will to live and all the other pieces of you that make you whole. They're fucking incredible."

Miranda smiled bashfully, touched by her words. "And when you smile for real like that, I just want to find some way to keep it there." Jack squeezed her eyes shut and scrunched her brow. "That was cheesy as hell."

Perhaps, yet no one had ever said anything quite like that to her and genuinely meant every word. No one ever saw so deeply into her eyes and found the scars lingering there. And despite knowing the scars were there, Jack didn't think they lessened her in anyway.

To her, they were pieces of her that made her whole. Fragments that did not define her or act as a crutch, but somehow made her even more attractive.

"Remind me to kill Kasumi and Shepard later for infecting me with their stupid—"

"Jack, shut up and kiss me."

Jack paused to open her eyes, confused by the command. When she met Miranda's eyes and noticed the effect of her words, she didn't take a moment longer to meet her lips with her own.

Their lips melded together in a slow kiss. Tender but no longer timid. Vulnerable but confident. Together they savored every sensation and the feeling of being so connected equally in physicality and their emotions.

As the kiss reached its natural end, the pair did not immediately reengage. They chose instead to gently rest their foreheads against one another, shut their eyes and just breathe; breathe in each other, breathe in this small moment of respite after the hectic and emotionally exhausting day their entire team shared.

Again they found their place of safety. Their place of freedom. A place where their fears still existed, yet they felt so small in comparison to the comfort and warmth found here.

_Safe. We're all safe._

Miranda inhaled a deep breath, inhaled Jack's scent and the scent of her own shampooed hair. With the exhale, she began to speak of what had been torturing her mind. It hadn't been intentional. In this place of peace, it came spilling out without warning.

She spoke of her fears on her past forever chasing her. How she feared a ghost of her past stealing away the people she cared for just as it almost had with Shepard.

The redhead was a paragon of everything good and hadn't made nearly as many enemies as Miranda. She settled most of her quarrels, but the former Cerberus operative hadn't. People her actions affected, whether directly or indirectly, could be out there still. They could want petty revenge.

"How can any of us move forward and find our normal or peace if these ghosts always come back to haunt us?" she asked one of the major questions on her mind.

Would she be able to keep Oriana safe? What if they targeted Jack? Would she find herself in the same position as Tara and Darian as they tried to revive Ghost? Would she feel the same heartrending sorrow and indignant rage?

"Will I have to outrun my past forever to keep the people I care for safe?"

Her voice remained soft to keep from breaking the peace of their closeness. Being here kept her calm and comforted throughout the conflict ravaging her heart and mind.

"You've been thinking about some deep shit," Jack said at length.

"Me and my stupid brain, right?" she asked weakly.

"Nah," Jack shook her head. "Not stupid. You aren't the only one who's been thinking about it. We've both got a checkered past, remember?" She did remember, and somehow just knowing she wasn't the only one thinking it gave her immense comfort. "But you've got it backwards, Miranda."

"How so?"

"It's not about running away from the past. If you run from it, it just follows you everywhere. It begins to control and define you. Don't know about you, but I don't want to be defined by my past. I want to be seen as I am today, the person who grew and matured from that powerful bitch."

Another glimpse of the maturity Jack possessed. Miranda found it to be equally inspiring and attractive. She ran her free hand through Jack's un-ponytailed hair and placed a light kiss on her lips.

"I agree. So, instead of running, what then?" she asked, honest in her desire to know the answer.

"Stand your ground and put the past where it belongs: in the past. After that you keep moving forward and never look back." She shook her head. "You can't let the past dictate your present and future. I'm speaking from experience. It's fucking hell to be bound and caged by that shit. Once you own it and put it behind you, you'll be free to find your peace and normal. And then you defend it with your life."

It sounded too simple, yet maybe it was as simple as that. After all, Shepard had been coaxing her to stop running for a long time.

Though…perhaps she already found her peace and normal.

"Jack…Thank you."

Lips pressed lightly against hers. "Anytime, Miranda. I've got your back."

Perhaps being so close to it made it harder for her to see.


	19. Chapter 19: Peace

Chapter 19

Peace

Jack and Miranda laid on the plush mattress, entangled together in peaceful bliss. Neither could say how long they'd been there, and neither cared. Here, in the moment, time didn't matter. Nothing existed beyond their little bubble of tranquility. Not the recovering galaxy, not their responsibilities and not the bullshit Terra Firma tried to pull.

All that mattered was being _here_, savoring every serene breath, every tender kiss and every caress of skin as they escaped the galaxy.

Too many people got lost in the chaos and daily routine of life. They let moments like these pass them by. Not Jack. She learned long ago to live in the present. To take every moment she could, even if it was selfish.

Human lifespans were too short to look too far to the future or wallow in the past. Thinking too much about the future or past served no fucking purpose.

Jack couldn't say she ever spent time looking towards the future, not really, and her past did try to chain her down many times, but she never stopped trying her hardest to make every moment alive worthwhile.

Between her past lifestyle and then the Reaper War, her continued existence was never a guarantee. Shit, it was never a guarantee for anyone, but she was knee-deep in some crazy situations for most her life. Any day could be her last. Every bullet could be the one to take her down—permanently.

Did she have any regrets? Nah. Some shit sucked or left its scars on her, but her past life choices could be boiled down to one of two reasons: the situation she was in or a moment where she shrugged and said, _"Fuck it,"_ before doing something crazy.

Teltin and her…uplifting escape from it put her on a path in life hard to get out of alive.

The Cerberus bastards taught her to fight and rewarded her for killing. Their research forged her into an all-powerful bitch.

In the end, their actions left her with three instincts: fight, kill, survive at all costs. She knew nothing of comradery, of gentleness or normal society, so she made the best of her situation and did whatever she could to keep surviving.

Now wasn't much different. Well, actually, it was fucking night and day compared to the torture she endured.

What was similar had to do with the fragility of life and her choice to live in the moment. Terra Firma forced everyone to remember how easy death could come. It was like a light switch. One press of a button and _bam_! A light was extinguished.

Their actions reminded everyone how in a single instant on any given day a person's future plans or dreams could be shattered by tragedy. Mortality and near death experiences had a funny way of waking people up. It reminded them of what is most important, or revealed to them the things they wanted to do or say but never did.

For some, the new sense of urgency eventually faded, the fires in their hearts fading and leaving behind cool ashes. For others, people like Shepard and Ghost, those flames never died. They kept the fires burning, stoking the flames with the memories of the incident, vowing to never let a single moment pass them by ever again.

Jack wasn't an exception to the feeling either. Her thoughts traveled on the same lines as Miranda's in the midst of and after the Terra Firma incident.

Most of her enemies were dead, she made sure of that. But that didn't mean her actions hadn't affected others. Any number of ghosts from her past could come crawling back to try to fuck up her happiness.

And it wasn't like she hadn't felt anything in her heart when Tara and Darian tried to revive Ghost. To watch two people desperately trying to bring back a person they cared for…

Jack never wanted to witness it again. The entire time her heart had knives cutting and carving away at it. Every failed attempt, every heartrending sob; she might as well have asked Grunt to tear her insides out with his bare hands.

It wouldn't have been any worse.

Knowing Ghost survived helped significantly. It eased her pain and fears to know, despite how close he came to dying, he lived. Just like when Shepard nearly died in the hospital, her survival mattered more than the near death itself. She and Ghost were still here, still alive.

Yet, if she went back to that moment in her mind, the helpless feeling that overcame her was intense. So she kept putting it behind her where it belonged. Ghost lived. All the other shit didn't matter. It'd only drown them in negative emotions if they kept thinking about it.

Back before Shepard, Jack buried these kinds of things or handled it on her own however she could; alcohol, drugs, angry sex, mayhem, murder. You name it, she tried it. None of it ever provided more than temporary gratification or forgetfulness.

In the end you had to wake up from the dream back to reality. Back to the loneliness of an empty bed. Back to the cold nightmares that wrapped their icy tendrils around her wrists and ankles, tying her to the mattress as her worst memories came to life.

The whole "relying on others" thing Shepard helped teach her really did make a difference in the internal fight. Some burdens couldn't remain buried forever. Just having one person, one genuine good person who cared and listened could keep the darkness at bay. And if you were really lucky, they could help you get it off your shoulders forever.

Terra Firma's effect on Jack wasn't so much a reminder to live in the moment. She didn't need that reminder. For her, Terra Firma's actions urged her to be more open with her feelings when it came to her kids and Miranda.

She wasn't about to start hugging everyone or some other ridiculous bullshit. Leave that to Shepard and Kasumi's sickening sweetness. But if some assholes ever took her down, she'd want her kids to have no doubt of her pride in them. And Miranda…she'd want her to know this relationship mattered to her. More than she verbally let on.

The problem was Jack sucked at putting feelings into words. She knew it. Being open with her feelings was still hard. But being romantic? Expressing softer emotions like Shepard and Kasumi did?

Ugh. She had better luck bedding a drunken Elcor.

No one ever mattered enough for her to even try. Back then she only searched for a good time or a release. Letting someone from her past _in_ wasn't possible. They'd only use it against her and pierce what was left of her heart. Only idiots got attached in the life she lived.

That was the past, though. Back then not only had no one ever mattered enough for her to try, but she never felt safe to do it. Miranda was different. For her she tried her best to lower the walls around her heart. For her she tried to express the emotions she kept hidden.

It wasn't expected of her, and it may not even be necessary, but all these feelings inside her heart…she really liked them.

Fuzzy and soft as they were, they were nice.

Expressing it wouldn't ever be her strength. The best she could do was say it the only way she knew how, even if it came out ridiculous or corny as hell. She was trying her best to be vulnerable and open to show how important this relationship was to her.

Maybe trying was enough. It seemed to be for Miranda. Despite how stupid Jack believed herself to sound, her corny words had a visible effect on her. A positive one, too.

"_Jack, shut up and kiss me."_

She expected laughter or an eye roll, not that. The gratitude she expressed at the end of their conversation hadn't been expected either.

_No complaints here._

Jack was happy to help, even if it only lightened the burden a little. For someone strong willed like Miranda, lightening the load a little bit was all she needed to get back to kicking ass.

No conversation followed afterwards. Both were content to lie together; one pair of hands entwined, Miranda running her free hand through her un-ponytailed hair, Jack caressing her cheek and eventually wrapping her arm around her lower back, tracing tattooed fingers across the fabric of her long sleeve.

Their noses would brush gently against one another before their lips would meet in kisses of varying kinds. Some were short and sweet. Others slower, longer and more passionate.

Sounds of their even breathing kept them in a state of bliss; their eyes fell shut at times, their foreheads gently resting against one another as their fingertips tickled exposed skin in their exploratory caresses.

Jack had never known intimacy like this. She wasn't even sure if intimacy was the right way to describe it.

The word didn't matter, though. What mattered was how fucking relaxing this was. She hadn't even known she could reach a level of tranquility like this. Yet here they were.

To hell with finishing that report she discarded before the Terra Firma incident. She was just going to stay right here and blast anyone who dared to interrupt down to the Wards with a Shockwave.

Miranda's tantalizing fingers traced her shaved temples along the tattoo, sapping her of the will to get up and move. Her fingers traced at her leisure, yet their actions never seemed without purpose. The pads of her fingers were gentle, smooth and unhurried.

With every passing second Jack fell further under Miranda's spell of tranquility.

Soft lips pressed tender kisses on her forehead, her temple, her cheek and then her lips, once, twice and finally a third time. The tip of Miranda's warm and moist tongue glided slowly along the lines of her lips, tickling, teasing, enticing. Asking for entrance.

Jack parted her lips, letting her tongue slip in to deepen the kiss.

Fuck it, she tapped out. She submitted to never moving from this spot or this place ever again. The Reapers could come back and try to force their way into the room and she wouldn't fucking budge as long as Miranda was here.

Hell, if someone entered the room right now she wouldn't even waste her energy blasting them out or shouting at them. She'd stay in the moment and give the trespassing little fuckers something to gossip about.

Jack squeezed Miranda's hand and tightened her grip around her back to keep their bodies as close as physically possible without fusing together. She felt Miranda's lips twist into a smile against her lips before kissing her again.

Eventually they would leave the bed and their place of bliss. There was still work to be done, after all. But eventually wasn't now. Until then Jack was content to lie back and savor this moment for as long as it lasted.

* * *

Jack exhaled a long suffering sigh and tossed the finalized duty roster away from her. The data-pad clacked onto her original report and slid crookedly off it, sitting like one of those old wooden teeter-totters on the coffee table in front of her.

"Finally," she groaned, rubbing her forehead in exhaustion and exasperation. Formalities were fucking draining. Schedule this and report that. Might as well have someone hovering over her shoulder to make sure she tied the laces of her boots right, damn stiff protocol loving Alliance Brass.

One would think surviving the end of the galaxy might lighten them up a bit. Nope. Still as tight assed as ever. Any tighter and they'd be able to crush diamonds.

_I'm glad Shepard isn't like that. Think I'd have either told her to fuck off, or dragged her to a bar to get her shitfaced enough to screw a Volus_, she thought.

Could the pint-sized species even screw a human? Jack shrugged. _Their respirators probably have a vibrating option or something._

Anyway, in combat Shepard ran a tight unit. But out of it? The Girl Scout was easygoing. She didn't expect a report of every tiny, insignificant detail during her day or to be called Commander or Ma'am.

Still, for all her complaining, Jack knew the rules were more relaxed for her than the average soldier. Her past and take-no-bullshit attitude kept her without too much red tape. Biggest rule was to keep her mouth in check around the kids—which was still stupid.

Seriously, the little brats spent time around seasoned soldiers during the war. The amount of alien and human curses they learned from outside sources made her restraint pointless.

But she still had to keep her language "_friendly_" despite that to be a proper teacher? Bullshit. Those kids were probably cussing behind closed doors or when they were alone in groups.

Argh, point was Jack couldn't stand the formalities. Her kids were worth the trouble, but damn did she wish the Alliance could follow Shepard's easygoing example. They didn't need to babysit everyone.

_At least we'll finally be able to get back to work tomorrow._

An amused hum drew her eyes down the couch to Miranda, who sat at the other arm with a single leg crossed underneath her, a data-pad of her own in hand and her icy blue eyes focused on the information within. The hint of a smile twisted at her lips, entertained at the tattooed biotic's distaste for formal work.

"How could you stand doing this shit all the time in Cerberus?" Jack asked as she leaned back into the couch.

She didn't expect an answer, but she was open to one if Miranda could give a reason. The shit wasn't difficult. It was just dull as Elcor speech.

Her brown eyes drifted to the perfectly stacked data-pads on the coffee table, five in number, and each chock full of the necessary information Miranda needed regarding the projects the tech prodigies were working on.

She sat relaxed. Unbothered by the question and the amount of information Kahlee gave her to sift through. She actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

Artificial light illuminated the living area of Miranda's place, which still felt slightly strange to be within. Don't get her wrong, she appreciated the invitation and the tranquil silence here. It reminded her of their moment earlier in the day back at Shepard's. But…well, she wasn't used to being a guest, she supposed. Especially in Miranda's sanctuary of all places.

Her time here had been nice. They mostly just worked, only stopping once to get a bite to eat before getting back to it, but this was nice. Even if they were just working, being around one another was better than sitting alone, banging her head against a desk in sheer boredom.

"It had to be done, and I was quite good at it," she answered. "It's always mundane and boring, but I always felt most comfortable while I worked. Work gave me purpose, kept me focused. I needed that, probably more than I realized consciously at the time.

"This, however," she motioned to the stack, "is actually quite interesting. The projects the Grissom Academy students are working on are impressive. They're advanced, far above what I initially expected them to be doing. It's no wonder the Alliance has such a special interest in them."

Jack looked over, eyebrow cocked. She _was_ enjoying this.

"What's got you so hooked already?" she asked, curious.

"Everything, really. The projects, the students themselves. Their thought processes are intriguing, each unique in their ways of approaching a project or a problem. No one is telling them to perform by one specific set of guidelines or rules. They're free to experiment, try different avenues of thought not yet tested, and if they fail they try a new direction.

"I…hate to make this comparison, but it reminds me of my time in Cerberus." Jack furrowed her brow but kept her mouth shut. "When I was given a task, I wasn't told how to do it or that this way was right and this was wrong. I was given the task and told to complete it without restrictions.

"It gave me room to explore every possibility. I didn't have to adhere to a singular structure of thought, and because of that freedom I was able to complete tasks like reviving Shepard. It's the complete opposite in the average human school. It's either their way of thought or failure."

She looked back down to her data-pad. "Grissom Academy's way of teaching has guidelines, certainly, but the freedom their students have to assess the problems they face in their own way doesn't stifle their innovative minds."

True. Grissom Academy had more freedom than the average school, hence why her unique style of teaching didn't get her kicked out. Sure there were still some guidelines to ensure the kids didn't screw off, but they weren't strict, overbearing prison guards for them.

Miranda continued. "There is no right or wrong way to solve a problem. There is no one hovering over their shoulder forcing them to abide by the teachers way of thinking. Your teachers offer guidance and advice. They don't enslave them to a line of thought that doesn't fit the way their minds work, and for that I am glad."

She frowned. "My father bought me the best education he could, but even then I always felt imprisoned by someone else's outdated thought patterns. I was to even forfeit the freedom of my own way of thinking to become…whatever he wanted me to become."

A tool. His dynasty. The perfect puppet. Whatever he wanted, the pain his actions caused still lingered in her eyes. More reason to be glad the bastard was dead.

"People like my father and those teachers, they forget humanity's greatest artists, inventors, musicians, writers, scientists and philosophers are not held in high regard because they created something average or already known. They asked questions the average person dared not to. They invented things yet to be thought of, things the average person could not conceive the purpose of. They challenged the status quo of society with their scientific theories."

Jack watched her silently, amazed by Miranda's passion on the subject. _She's going to do good with those kids._ She might stumble a bit at first, but she'd get her footing and do good for those kids. No doubt about it.

"On a professional level, I can see why the Alliance sees these children as assets. Given the right guidance, these children and your students will brighten humanity's future. On a personal level, I'm thrilled to see such bright minds in a wonderful environment. If Oriana didn't already graduate, I'd consider having her attend Grissom Academy."

Huh, no shit. That was a glowing review if Jack ever heard one.

Miranda covered a yawn with her free hand. "Ah, excuse me." She lowered her hand and shook her head. "Seems the energy I exerted today is catching up to me."

"Can't imagine why," Jack quipped.

The single yawn shifted her features. Where before her eyes appeared as they always did—awake, alive and stunning—her first yawn of the night changed them. Still stunning, but now the icy blue orbs glistened as fatigue and exhaustion curled their talons around her. She squinted at the data-pad, eyes trying to refocus on her task while not really seeing it.

Work officially reached its end this night.

Deciding to take the initiative, Jack got off the couch and meandered over to the lighting system. Blue eyes followed her the entire way, puzzled by the new movement and purpose for it.

Jack's bare feet carried her from carpet to tile floor; the cold porcelain prickled the sensitive receptors of her soles, but it could have been worse. Could have been ice or hot coals. That'd be a bitch to cross with bare feet.

She reached the lighting system and dimmed the kitchen to a lower intensity then shut down the living area light completely. Jack's eyes adjusted quickly to the new darkness and turned back to look at Miranda. Her pale skin glowed under the blue light of her data-pad, eyes squinted at the change of light concentration, and still very confused about what her tattooed counterpart was doing.

She'd figure out soon enough.

Jack moved back through the room. "Got a spare pillow and blanket around?" she asked.

"Yes? What are you doing?"

"You'll see, Princess. Where are they?"

Miranda directed her to a closet where the pillow and blanket waited. With them in her possession, Jack returned to the couch, sauntering across the soft carpet to be in front of the raven-haired woman.

She dipped her head to the side. "Scoot your bubbly butt up." Miranda did so, though not without a questioning look the entire time. "A little further. And, there. Now hold this."

Without warning Jack tossed the blanket on top of her head. An accident… Oh, fuck it, who was she kidding. She did it on purpose and couldn't hide the satisfied grin when Miranda sighed in exasperation underneath it. "Really?"

"Hehehe!" Totally worth it.

She set up the pillow in the corner of the couch and sat herself against it, positioning her legs to be open enough for Miranda to fit.

"All right, you can scoot back now." Miranda pulled the blanket off herself, frowning harmlessly at Jack but still scooting back to rest against her, data-pad still in hand.

"Ah, enough of that shit." She snatched the data-pad from her hand and tossed it onto the coffee table. "Kahlee isn't expecting you to finish all of that in a single night, and if she knew what you did today she'd be all over you to rest. Shepard would do the same."

"I suppose you're right." Miranda shifted against her, the warmth of her body far better than what her folded up jacket or blanket could give. Then her soft lips pressed against Jack's jawline. "Though, now that I have all this free time, I'm not sure what to do with it. Perhaps you have an idea or two?"

To rest, obviously. But if she wanted to play a round of flirting, Jack would engage and win undisputedly. "Sure. Sit up and I'll strip you out of these clothes."

Miranda's head nearly snapped off as she spun to look at her, wide eyed and astonished at what was perceived as a legitimate offer. Jack kept her face neutral, earnest even in her seriousness, all to further her victory when she spoke again.

"Once you're naked I'll touch, kiss or lick you wherever you want. Just remember, you're the one paying for your sister's therapy when she returns to find you gripping the couch and screaming—"

"Jack!" Miranda scolded.

Game, set and match.

Jack grinned and rolled her eyes. "You set yourself up for that one, Princess."

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "You're incorrigible."

"Offer still stands."

"_Jack_!"

The tattooed biotic snickered and relaxed against the pillow. Ah, teasing her was too easy sometimes. Always fun, though. Especially when she got all flustered like that.

Jack closed her eyes and rested a hand gently on Miranda's stomach, trailing the tips of her fingers along the fabric of her long sleeve as she found her place of peace again.

"Just relax, Miranda. Seriously. You need it."

She felt her shift again, this time turning and sitting up. Ready to pull her back down and restrain her, Jack opened her eyes and found Miranda turned almost fully to face her. She moved again, finishing her turn to sit on her knees then leaned in.

"While I appreciate the thought, I had something else in mind," she whispered.

"You don't say."

The pair met in a mutual kiss. This hadn't been part of Jack's plan whatsoever, but fuck it. She wouldn't argue or fight against this one bit.

"I meant for you to relax, just so you know," Jack commented between kisses.

"This is relaxing," Miranda responded then kissed her again.

It really was.

Miranda didn't waste time removing Jack's hair tie again to let her hair be free. Gently, the tips of her fingers buried themselves in the strands, massaging her scalp and setting the tattooed biotic at ease.

Jack exhaled a relaxed breath through her nose then wrapped her arms around Miranda's lower back, pulling her down and in so their bodies laid flush against one another, all the while their lips met again and again.

Gradually their kisses lessened in frequency and intensity, the exhaustion Miranda felt steadily catching up to her. Jack didn't mind. She was content to be here with her, warm bodies pressed against each other, Miranda's lips kissing the pulse point underneath her jaw as she curled up against her.

She kept her eyes shut and sank into the pillow, slowly edging closer to inevitable sleep while her arms gently wrapped around the raven-haired woman's waist. One of her hands slid underneath the long sleeve, fingertips gliding across the warm skin in non-distinct circular patterns.

"Mm," Miranda hummed as she nuzzled against her.

Jack considered reminding her of the bed across the hall they could fall asleep on, but mentally shrugged it off. _Screw it._ This was nice. Peaceful and comfortable too.

This time there wouldn't be any duties to pull them from their place of peace. This time they could stay here as long as their dreams let them.

Neither stirred or tossed and turned during the night. Not even when Oriana returned home a few minutes after sleep claimed them to find them cuddled up on the couch, sleeping in tranquility without a care in the galaxy.

The younger Lawson smiled fondly at the pair before departing for bed.


	20. Chapter 20: Old Friends

Chapter 20

Old Friends

Miranda's internal clock never lost tempo. Years of meticulously planning her day down to the second kept it ticking to the strict regimen she trained it to follow. She woke early every day. No excuses. No snooze button. The moment her internal clock rang, she fired up her brain's drive core to full power and proceeded to plot her course for the day.

Early mornings were mandatory. There were tasks to accomplish, a timely schedule to maintain. Lateness was unacceptable. She was designed for perfection, and there was nothing perfect about tardiness, nor was it ever fashionable. You may as well believe the Asari dancers on Omega wore _classy_ outfits, or that people bought Fornax for literature.

Sleeping in? It was for the lazy. For people unwilling or not driven enough to use every second to their advantage to capitalize on a goal or work. Not Miranda. No, she couldn't risk a single wasted second when her father methodically hunted her and Oriana like a Salarian STG agent.

Sleep was secondary to the hundred different tasks needing her immediate attention. Reports, missions, intelligence gathering; exercise and combat training to remain in perfect condition for a fight—her schedule was booked.

Or, it had been. Her schedule had more space for free time presently than ever before.

To use Jack's coarse language, she was a virgin to free time. She had no idea what to do with it or how to optimize the pleasure she gained from it. She sort of tried this or that, nervous and unsure if it was the _right_ action to take. And…this was quite the embarrassing metaphor the more she thought about it.

Personal time was one of the unicorns of her life; fascinating to hear about, but nothing she could waste time looking for. She had better luck finding a Krogan scientist on the same intellect as a Salarian.

To accidently happen upon her unicorn left her off kilter. Dumbfounded, even. As far as Miranda knew, it had only been a myth. A fantasy she had no hope of fulfilling. In her heart she knew she should appreciate this chance encounter for what it was, but…shouldn't she be working? Surely _something_ needed her attention.

In this new, foreign place where personal time existed, the strict regimen she woke and slept to was out of place, really. Nothing called for her set of skills or required her to constantly look over her shoulder while strolling to some clandestine location.

Shepard was medically cleared. Kasumi was in the care of professionals. She killed her father and ended that long chapter of her life, and in doing so ensured Oriana's safety.

For the woman who prepared for everything, Miranda wasn't prepared for normalcy. She never prepared for a normal life. How could she when it seemed so impossible? Yet there were no missions for her to complete. No reports to file. No Intel to procure to hasten the end of her father.

All she had left from her original schedule was exercise and combat training, and those hardly filled out a day. Without Jack and Kahlee Sanders providing the opportunity to work with Grissom Academy, Miranda wasn't sure how she would feel or how to spend her time.

Who was Miranda Lawson without work?

_A sister. A comrade. A friend. Something more?_

_A normal person, perhaps?_

Miranda hummed softly. Thoughts like these rarely happened upon waking. Philosophical musings over her place in the galaxy were better suited for later in her day.

Nevertheless, her internal clock was without a doubt ringing. She could hear its high pitched chimes shooting through her ears in glass shattering soprano.

No time like the present to start her day.

Her mind filed the musing away for a later time, perhaps mid-afternoon? She'd be more awake, for certain, and less inclined to use an embarrassing metaphor comparing her to a virgin. Drowsiness tangled her brain, allowed less refined thoughts to push their way to the front of her brain.

Yes, later seemed a far more suitable time to consider where she stood as a person today and her next steps towards her goal.

One task filed, now to the next.

She hadn't finished with the data-pads Kahlee gave her to look over. After her morning routine she could pick up where she left off and finish reading through them. First step: Getting up on her feet to start the day. Then she could shower, eat breakfast with her sister and get to work.

Miranda's eyes fluttered open as she prepared to get on with her day, only to immediately halt all movements when her body met minor resistance.

Sleep fogged her vision, obstructing her ability to process her surroundings instantaneously. Like a Combat V.I. experiencing a momentary lag, it took her eyes an extra second to recalibrate. Several blinks later the fog dissipated and her brain picked up every tiny detail around her.

This was not her bedroom, nor was the warm body she laid cradled against her bed. Data entered her mind, went through all the necessary filters to reach a conclusion in a quick and efficient manner even a Salarian would find admirable.

_Ah. I fell asleep on Jack._

An unintentional act, though not one she'd call a mistake or an accident. Stubbing a toe was an accident. Sending a lover's poem to the wrong person was a mistake. This was…well, she didn't plan for this to happen. Not really. Last night she meant to shut her eyes and…cuddle for a little while, as embarrassing as that was to admit.

Miranda frowned at herself. No, it wasn't embarrassing to admit, or it shouldn't be. There was nothing wrong with _wanting_ to be close to the person you were in a relationship with. To feel a connection or their warmth. To hold or be held by them. This was perfectly natural and nothing to be embarrassed about.

So yes, she wanted to cuddle with Jack, and she enjoyed it too.

But it hadn't been planned to be a full night of sleep on the couch. In hindsight, the bed would have been nicer, but sleep obviously claimed her after her excessive workout yesterday.

Now they were here, covered by a warm blanket on her couch; her curled up against Jack like a cat, Jack still sleeping soundly with her tattooed arms wrapped around Miranda's belly.

The pillow she set up sunk into the corner. Hopefully she wouldn't be waking up with any unnecessary aches. At the moment, she didn't appear bothered. Jack looked peaceful. Unburdened by the physical, emotional and mental scars the galaxy placed on her.

_Beautiful._

Appallingly corny, but true. She wasn't beautiful in the mainstream, perfect model ideal. Scars lined her skin around her neck from the torture she endured as a child. Tattoos covered nearly every centimeter of skin available as a canvas.

Her physique did not lack muscles; she was quite fit actually, but she was also on the lean side compared to Miranda's more curvaceous build. Two scars ran through her right eyebrow, another smaller scar ran vertical through the right side of her upper lip. Her facial features were sharp, much like the woman herself.

Yet none of this made her any less beautiful to Miranda's eyes. If anything, every little detail she noticed added to her unique beauty. The mainstream ideal of perfect beauty rejected a woman like her. It told her to remove the tattoos, get different surgeries to hide the scars, increase her bust size, gain or lose weight, wear more clothing—all superficial nonsense.

Jack was…well, she was perfect the way she was. She didn't care if anyone was offended by her coarse language or what she wore. How people perceived her scars and tattoos mattered less to her than Asari politics; the scars and tattoos were as much a part of her as the heart beating in her chest.

Never had Jack bent over backwards to fit someone else's ideal of what was perfect or beautiful. She walked tall on the path she chose, the path where she could endeavor to always be the best version of herself, and she was all the more beautiful for it.

Another quality she admired about this woman.

Miranda quickly calculated her probability of escape from this embrace without waking Jack up. It was extremely low, even with her training in stealth. Too much shifting or even the slightest touch would in all likelihood awaken her. _She's probably as light of sleeper as I am._

Probably more given her life experiences.

Of course she could still get up and simply ignore the fact she'd wake Jack up in the process, but that would be rude. The hour wouldn't be anything less than ungodly for anyone besides her. And Miranda couldn't find it in herself to disturb Jack from the bliss of sleep, or to leave the warm embrace.

…Perhaps work could wait? It wasn't as if lives were on the line, right? Besides, she was trying to find her normal. She supposed it wouldn't be too bad to experiment with the whole "sleeping in" business other normal people enjoyed, even it was only once.

Miranda gently nuzzled into Jack and exhaled a calm breath, eyes shutting as she decided to stay.

All things considered, sleeping in wasn't so bad at times like this.

* * *

"You two looked adorable last night."

"_Ori_."

Miranda rejected the idea of being _adorable_ vehemently. Adorable was for puppies, kittens and young children. She was a woman. An adult, and absolutely _not_ adorable. Or a prude for that matter.

"What? It's true! You two were all snuggled up under a blanket an—"

"We're not having this discussion."

"You even slept in!"

Miranda slapped her hand to her forehead and groaned. "Ori, please stop." Her sister was too giddy about this. Far too giddy.

"Stop being so embarrassed," her sister scolded. "You've found someone special, someone you can be yourself with. It's wonderful."

"…Remind me to _never_ introduce you to Kasumi."

"Huh? Why not? She seems really nice."

"Because she'll corrupt you with her corny romanticism," Miranda deadpanned.

Oriana frowned. "I'm happy for you, you know that, right?"

Miranda sighed. Yes, she did, and it meant a lot. She was just being a stick in the mud. Putting aside her embarrassment, she moved over to her sister and pulled her into a hug.

"…Thank you for being supportive." She appreciated it, truly.

Her sister hugged her back. "It's what a sister is for."

Yes, it was.

"I have a holo if you want it."

"_Ori_!"

"I'm kidding!"

And apparently having a sister meant being teased as well.

Still, despite the good-natured teasing, Miranda didn't regret sleeping in one bit.

* * *

Days Later

* * *

In the immediate aftermath of the war, the whole idea of reconnecting the galaxy felt like a long-shot. The same as the old far-fetched hopes of peace between the Quarians and Geth and Genophage cure. Go back one year and those ideas were what people used to describe impossibilities.

Now, strangely enough, they were reality.

Reconnecting the galaxy was the same long-shot as the Crucible; it was the one thing they could place their hopes in because there were no other options on the table. This wasn't a game of Skyllian Five where they could fold and wait for better cards in the next round. They either won the war or died. They either reconnected the galaxy or more people would die.

They had to work with the cards they had and hope like hell they could pull off an upset.

The Sol System worked hard to ever since. Everyone's survival was on the line. _Everyone's_. Humans might have it easier on supplies and atmosphere, but they weren't safe. Not at all.

There were enough fertile Krogan around to shrink their population to match the Drell, if push came to shove.

The hope of reuniting with family beyond this system, or creating one, or simply going home motivated the people to give their all. No matter what it took, they were going to fix the Relay and reconnect the galaxy to give the Reapers one final middle finger.

Work was ongoing, yet it no longer felt like _if_ they could pull it off. It felt inevitable. Like one day soon they were going to wake up and find out the Relay was fixed.

Jack dared to hope. It wouldn't even be the end of their problems, they'd only be peeling back one layer of the shitty onion the Reapers left behind, but fixing the Relay would prove they could do it.

They could fix what was broken and reconnect the galaxy—together. A united front. A _real_ united front, not the political bullshit and spins to gain points with voters or further some shady end.

Ugh, she hated how politicians used to spew garbage like that in the past. Hated how people ate it up as if it were sweet ice cream, or chugged it down like Noverian Rum.

_At least it's real this time._

On the ground level, in the dirt with the everyday person, the situation didn't feel as sketchy. Sure there were still problems—fears. Aliens had no choice but to monitor their rations and medical supplies far closer than humans due to their location.

That wouldn't change until they could get a steady supply incoming, which required them to fix the Relay. And it wasn't like everything outside the Sol System was going to be a classy Red Light District of guaranteed titillating pleasure and safety.

Still, it wasn't nearly as bad as before. Comms were a lot more reliable. There were glimpses of good news; stories of the everyday people going out of their way to be generous to others, news about prominent war figures surviving after being in critical condition, important repairs being completed to increase quality of life for the Sol System.

It didn't feel as if their entire civilization rested on the edge of knife. Maybe it still did. Maybe they were one bad day from the illusion of progress shattering. Jack didn't know. She wasn't involved in the backroom shit.

Shepard and Kahlee seemed optimistic about their chances, though, and they had their ears on the pulse, being far closer to the higher-ups than Jack cared to be. It kept her hopeful nothing was about to fall apart. Masses of people weren't about to die or starve or start a war.

She had her fill of war and mass annihilation of civilizations.

Only those Terra Firma fuckers tried to break the peace so far. She hoped they'd be the last, but knew better than to invest too much hope into it.

Sooner or later the surviving cockroaches would poke their disgusting heads out of the dirt. There was no avoiding it. Unless the Reapers miraculously wiped out all the assholes in the galaxy, somewhere down the line boots would need to be put to asses yet again.

She'd be ready for it.

Today Jack and her students were assigned to prepare equipment for one of the supply ships going between the Citadel and Earth. Unfortunately for her students, she chose to make an exercise out of it; physical labor only—no biotics.

_Oh_, the looks on their faces when she broke the news to them was _glorious_. She grinned the entire time. Their faces would have won her awards if she had taken a holo.

Regardless of their career path, biotics couldn't bail them out of every situation. They needed to be physically capable as well, and they certainly as shit weren't allowed to get lazy on her watch.

It wasn't like everything was insanely heavy. Only a few things needed the teenagers to team up to get it from point to point. And Jack wasn't sitting around with her thumb in her ass. She worked right alongside them, encouraging them and giving the little squirts a hard time simultaneously.

Joining them were Shepard and Kasumi. At her asking, the lovebirds came to help. Normally she wouldn't interrupt their relaxation with work, definitely when Kasumi was only recently discharged from the hospital, but upon working Jack learned two things.

First off, there was _a lot_ of shit to move, more than she had been told. She didn't doubt her own work ethic or her kids; personally she could outwork any man or woman, regardless of species. The only exception was Shepard. Damn woman was a stubborn workhorse and could make the impossible possible.

Regardless of her own ability, Jack wasn't confident they could finish before the ship arrived.

Then there was Prangley. He was one of her top students. He worked hard during training, through the war and into the relief effort. She was proud of him, just as she was proud of her other students for their hard work. However, despite his good qualities, he was also a fucking idiot.

Harsh? Yeah, but she was fucking pissed off. Not at him, granted. All Prangley wanted to do was help as much as possible, which led to the idiot using stims to keep himself going beyond his body's limits.

_How did I not fucking notice before today?_

Soldiers used stims to vitalize their bodies through long fights. It was like injecting your body with metric tons of caffeine. It kept the user alert, awake and ready for anything at a moment's notice.

By no means were they an addictive drug or as damaging as one; they were relatively safe to use, but the more frequently you used them without rest, the harder the crash.

There was a reason soldiers using them in the war were benched afterwards for extended periods of time. The body could only be pushed beyond its limits for so long.

Prangley looked dead on his feet today. At first she attributed it to a bad night of sleep, but the longer she watched him, the more she noticed how unnaturally sluggish he was. He didn't even chipper up in response to banter, not even when she gave him openings to fire at Rodriguez. Those two _loved_ giving each other shit.

Around then she started catching Rodriguez trying to get her attention behind Prangley's back, mouthing things she couldn't understand and pointing at her friend. She didn't understand a damn thing she tried to mouth; since when did she have the ability to read lips?

Although Jack didn't understand the words Rodriguez was mouthing, Jack could read the silent plea for help loud and clear. So she sat the stubborn idiot down and pried the information from him, learning he started using stims after the Terra Firma incident and told Rodriguez to keep quiet about.

Had Rodriguez not been actively trying to get her attention, she'd have given her an earful too. Instead only Prangley received one. Afterwards she sent him back with Rodriguez as support to be taken care of by one of the doctors.

With two of her students gone, she called in Shepard and Kasumi for reinforcements.

Thankfully they answered her call and helped lift her spirits from her _very_ pissed off mood. The anger still lingered in the back of her mind. Again, not at him, but at herself. This was her failing as a teacher for not paying close enough attention. But for now a job needed doing.

She could be pissed at herself later.

Jack and Shepard set down a large supply crate among the gathered supplies at the docking bay, exhaling in relieved unison as soon as it was out of their hands. "What did they pack in there? Seven Elcor and a horde of Krogan?" the tattooed biotic grumbled.

Shepard chuckled. "Why seven Elcor?"

"First number that came to mind. Don't fuc—" Jack scrunched her nose as she halted the curse from escaping her mouth. Pissed off or not, she couldn't go cussing up a storm.

Shepard shot her a stupid grin, earning herself a glare. "Don't question it, and wipe that stupid look off your face. I'll kick your ass so hard the Cheerleader will put you through physical therapy all over again."

"Aw, but then I'll have to wait _even longer_ to take Ana on another date."

Jack and Shepard half turned to see Kasumi pouting playfully beneath the shadow of her hood, three red crates of medi-gel stacked in her arms.

"You say that like it'll kill you," Jack responded dryly.

"It will!" Kasumi's dramatics made Jack's lips lift into a smile even as her eyes rolled. "We haven't even had a second date yet." She paused thoughtfully. "Well, not unless you count the other night when we lit candles and lathered—"

"_Kasumi_!" Shepard scolded, cheeks growing red.

Jack immediately raised her hands in surrender. She had to nip this at the bud before she learned more about their relationship than she wanted to know.

"Hey, whatever you do and how you do it isn't my damn business. Just keep it to yourselves."

No way was she getting involved in this. Teasing Shepard and Kasumi about having sex was one thing. Hearing firsthand accounts was unnecessary. She'd rather hear Vorcha karaoke.

"It wasn't—"

Nope. Not happening.

"Shepard, I don't care if sex wasn't involved or if it was the most erotic fantasy you have. I. Don't. Want. To. Know," she emphasized. "What you two do in your room or in your apartment is _your_ business. Not mine. And don't feel the need to explain yourself to me. Trust me, I don't care."

Vorcha karaoke wasn't completely accurate. Jack would rather sit through the entirety of Elcor _Hamlet_, every single Blasto movie _and_ go bar hopping to every Vorcha karaoke location in existence before hearing their personal sexual exploits.

It wasn't as if they could stun her or disgust her. She had heard of and, unfortunately, seen a lot of shit. None of it mattered to her. As long as everyone was consenting and having a good time, she didn't give a shit what anyone did.

Jack just didn't want to hear about her two friends having sex. It'd make things weird.

The N7 opened her mouth to retort but stopped short and sighed. She glanced over to her lover, frowning. "…You're just doing this to make me blush."

Kasumi winked playfully and smiled sweetly at Shepard. "Caught me. You're so adorable when you're flustered."

The compliment only made the redhead's frown deepen and her cheeks match her hair color. "I'm not…adorable," she muttered.

"To me you are, my dear Ana," Kasumi said, her sweet smile turning affectionate.

Shepard smiled fondly in return, still bashful as a virgin schoolgirl about the whole "_adorable_" thing but no longer ready to debate the point.

Jack rolled her eyes at the pair. She was going to need to visit a dentist just by being near these two and their sickening sweetness. They'd get her bill after the cavities were taken care of.

"Glad to see you two are back to normal." Her tone was dryer than the Sahara Desert.

She really was glad.

"I'll take those, my love." Shepard took the crates from Kasumi and set them neatly with the others. A group of her students joined them, dropping off crates of medi-gel and other supplies—bandages, cross-species medical equipment, rations, etc.—before heading back to get more.

By the time the ship arrived, the supplies were all gathered together like gifts under a Christmas tree. Her students returned to their quarters at her order; they earned a break to eat and rest before the next job.

Jack, Shepard and Kasumi, however, remained behind to guard the supplies. Couldn't risk a mercenary group or scavengers stealing the supplies to sell them off or hoard them when they were meant to help people planetside.

The supply ship was sleek and small—Alliance made from the look of it. Nothing nearly as imposing and awe-inspiring as the Normandy, but not a bad looking ship. Minor damage marked the hull. Obviously it had seen combat during the war. No surprise really. A lot of ships, regardless of their original class, ended up in skirmishes during the war. That's just the way it was against the Reapers—as it is in any war, she supposed.

Kasumi, sitting crossed legged on a supply crate, turned to Shepard, mischief gleaming in her shadowed eyes.

"Do you think EDI will mind if I steal the Normandy and take it for a joy ride? I'll bring it back with a full tank… Maybe."

Shepard exhaled a breathy chuckle, crossed her arms across her chest and looked to the thief sitting next to her. "'Maybe?'" she repeated the word.

"I can't promise I'll remember to refill our fuel. I might get lost in the thrill of flying such an advanced vessel. Look at how much fun Joker has every time you let him put the Normandy through her paces."

"Can't blame her. Thought about going pirating with it when you first recruited me," Jack agreed. "After all the upgrades you put into it, plus EDI being onboard, other pirates would fucking cower and retreat if they saw it."

The Normandy was a monster, in the best ways. Get a loyal crew of like-minded individuals and the entire ship could swim in credits. Well, it could have if the Collectors and Reapers didn't exist. And if Shepard wasn't a Girl Scout.

"Oh! I have the perfect idea for us, Jack," Kasumi declared.

Jack quirked an eyebrow up. "I'm listening."

Foreseeing a troublesome situation, Shepard tried to intercede, stepping forward to be somewhat between the pair. "Hold on, wait—"

And failed.

"As soon as the Relays are fixed, we take the Normandy for ourselves and stake out the wealthiest criminals and pirates left alive. We'll pirate ships, rob from the rich and give to the poor to create legendary heists no one will ever know about."

She placed a hand to her chest. "I'll, of course, plan and lead the heists. We can bring Zaeed, Grunt and Garrus as extra muscle. They'll enjoy it. Or we could make it a ladies exclusive gang. We'll convince Liara, Miranda, Tali and EDI to go along with it."

Jack grinned at the helpless look on Shepard's face then nodded. Who was she to deny inspired mischief like Kasumi's?

"Sounds like a whole bunch of fun if you ask me," she said.

Before Grissom Academy, before her students, she'd have done it in a heartbeat. Pirating with the Normandy? Don't tease her with a good time. Average pirating could be fun and exciting, but with the Normandy it'd be exhilarating, and the scores they could land, they'd be swimming in enough credits to make a Volus banker jealous.

_It's only too bad we're not serious about it. Might have been good fun._

With Kasumi keeping her thievery on the more honorable side and Jack working with the Alliance, they couldn't exactly steal the most advanced ship and symbol of victory without consequences.

_She already had that Salarian Spectre on her tail, and I don't plan to get locked up again._

Shepard didn't need to know that, not yet anyways.

"No. _No_." Shepard emphasis on the word and worried expression were _priceless_. Jack bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep a straight face. "Pirating the Normandy is off limits. EDI didn't enjoy it being stolen the first time and having my clone defile it. _I_ did _not_ enjoy my clone attempting to throw out Invictus, my fish and my model ships."

Wait, wait, wait, her clone tried to _throw out_ her space hamster, fish and model ships? The same model ships she spent _hours_ of downtime putting together and setting up in her cabin? The same rodent she was so fond of, she named it after the Latin word for "unconquerable." The fish she spent a _ridiculous_ amount of credits for V.I. to take care of while she saved the galaxy?

A half-suppressed chortled worked its way out up and out her throat. Jack tried to slap a hand over her mouth to keep more from coming out and keep her face stony serious, but there was no holding it in. She couldn't. Mad cackles broke free from her lips and refused to stop.

"Shepard! You- Your clone tried to throw out your little space rodent?!"

How had no one told her about that?

"Yes. It's not funny."

"Fuck yes it is! You're—" Her own cackle interrupted her. "You're more upset about her trying to throw out your pets and model ships tha- than you are about her stealing the Normandy!"

Even an Elcor would laugh at this, and she wasn't even sure Elcor could laugh. At most she'd get a, _"Uncontrollable laughter: This is comedy gold. Amused but in disbelief: How can you be serious?"_

The mere thought of the monotone Elcor speech sent her further into raucous laughter.

"Invictus and my fish are as much a part of the ship as the rest of the crew," she defended, steadfast and disapproving of the laughter. "And I spent a lot of time collecting and putting together my model ships. It's a hobby."

Her dead seriousness did little to soothe her laughter. How could she not see how hilarious this was?

Seeing it was a lost cause to argue against Jack, who had tears in her eyes and was waving the N7 off to stop her from speaking more, Shepard returned her attention to Kasumi.

"No pirating the Normandy," she said, accenting her point with three vertical chops of her hand.

"Aw, but it would be fun, Ana!" Kasumi reached forward and took her lover's hand in her own. "We could make it a date. You and me, a Commander and Thief in love stealing the Alliance's most advanced warship to rob from criminal masterminds. Tagging along with us are our trusted and loyal friends, each with their own unique sets of skills. We travel across the stars on a never-ending journey of love and mischief."

"You can frame this like one of your cheesy books all day. My answer is still the same, Kasumi."

"I promise to bring it back in one piece." She shrugged. "Well, mostly in one piece."

"No, Kasumi."

Kasumi crossed her arms to pout and frowned. "Spoilsport."

Jack, with her cackles barely contained, noticed movement behind Kasumi. Peering around her to see how large the crew from the supply ship was, her eyebrows immediately rose.

The stunned expression didn't go unnoticed by either of her friends.

"Huh? What's wrong? There isn't anything really big and scary behind me, is there?" Kasumi asked.

The tattooed biotic shook her head, a pleased smile on her lips. "Nah." She meandered around the crates and whistled to gain the arriving groups attention. "Hey! The fuck you guys doing here? Did they get tired of looking at your ugly faces down on Earth?"

"Ha!" One booming bark of laughter that could only belong to a Krogan rocked the docking bay. "Well would you look at who the Varren dragged in!" Jav greeted, spreading his thick and muscular arms out.

Accompanying him was Ravyn, who paused for a brief second in shock at the sight of the tattooed biotic. The shock didn't hold long. Her mandibles shifted into a Turian grin. "Explains why they kicked you off so soon. All those tattoos are a real pain on the eyes. I'm already starting to get a headache just by looking at you."

Jack grinned back and placed her hands on her hips. This was definitely a pleasant surprise. "They didn't kick me out. I was running away from all of you. Didn't want ugly like Shay's rubbing off on me and my kids."

Nakmor Jav reached her first, slapping her shoulder while his body rumbled with his deep, thunder-esque laughter. "Feels like ages, Kid! Nice to see you're still on your feet."

"It only feels like ages because your bones are old enough to be in a human museum, Jav," Ravyn quipped. "When we get back to Earth, I can set up an exhibit just for you. Humans have those 'dinosaurs' they put together. We'll get you all set up by those exhibits and give you a great log to be read to kids."

"Heh, he'll probably just talk to the kids from behind the glass. Talk about how he's killed creatures bigger than our dinosaurs and talk about the 'good old days' when he was still in his prime, had a full quad and didn't creak every time he sat up," Jack teased.

Jav roared with laughter. "Ah, I missed you, you crazy kid!" He gave her shoulder a friendly shove, the force behind it enough to make her stumble a single step back. "You're the only human with a quad big enough to talk that kind of shit to me. I've killed Krogan for less, and we're harder to kill than you tiny humans."

He grinned. "But that's why I like you, Kid. You're the good crazy. The kind you want on your side in a tough fight."

"True enough, Old Man," Ravyn chuckled.

Shit, she hadn't realized how much she missed these guys. They were good people, just like the Normandy crew and N7 Talons.

Finally noticing they weren't alone, Ravyn tilted her head to examine the other two human women. "Oh, hey. Sorry about the wait. Our crew is gathering as we speak to come handle these supplies."

"It's no big deal. We were happy to give Jack and her students a hand," Kasumi said.

"Agreed," Shepard said, nodding once.

Ravyn's gaze lingered on Shepard, examining her with keen eyes, taking in the familiar face she couldn't quite place, the red and white striped sleeve on her N7 hoodie along with the N7 symbol sewn over her breast. When her features shifted to surprise, Jack knew it clicked into place.

"Holy shit. Commander Shepard?"

Shepard chuckled, nervous and bashful, and lightly scratched at her neck. "I'm never going to get used to that."

The Turian caught onto the discomfort, tilted her head in a show of amusement and clicked her talon against her chest plate. "I could ask you to autograph my chest plate and marry me to make this really awkward, if you'd like."

Ravyn was quick on her toes. Probably came with being a saboteur. Smooth as silk, too, when it came to interacting with others. She wasn't stiff-backed like most Turian soldiers.

The saboteur read a situation and people well; Jack could too, which was why she was certain Ravyn wasn't a career soldier. Former military, maybe, but she definitely spent more time out of it. It was in the way she watched others, the casual indifference to hide her attentiveness. The sensuality she could exude quite well for a Turian

More than likely, Ravyn's past was more checkered than she let on. Not that Jack cared. What someone did to get by didn't make them evil. She didn't judge, prod for more details or care. Ravyn was good at heart. Treated people fairly and with respect as long as they treated her the same way. She worked hard and cared for her comrades.

There was a mutual respect between them, yet Jack saw an opportunity. A moment to make the saboteur lose her usual coolness. It was an opportunity she couldn't let slip through her fingers, so she snatched it tightly in her grasps and seized it.

"Right in front of her lover? That's pretty daring of you, Ravyn," she quipped.

The natural cool of Turian's was known all across the Milky Way. Hardly anything could break it. War? Ambush? A deal gone sour? They handled the situation and moved on without breaking stride.

Some, like Ravyn and Garrus, played it off with quips. Other Turians were colder, more akin to war machines. But not all Turians fell into these stereotypes. It wasn't one or the other. They were just people after all, and people could be as different and unique as all the fauna in the galaxy.

Pulling out the rug from Ravyn's feet and seeing her eyes widen in horror was, quite frankly, fucking hysterical.

"Ah, fuck."

Kasumi didn't waste her opportunity either. She was practically glowing with mischief and mirth. "We can have joint custody. Ana will be with me Sunday through Tuesday. She can go with you Thursday through Saturday. And on Wednesday we share her equally.

"Wait! Maybe instead we can move into the same house and live together. She can be our influential Matriarch and sleep sandwiched between the two of us."

_Hahaha! Nice one, Kasumi!_

Shepard about snapped her head off to balk at her lover, cheeks red. "_Kasumi_!"

The thief wore a doe eyed innocent look. If Jack didn't know her, she would have believed her. "What? You're a beautiful woman and the hero of the galaxy, Ana. You have to share the love of your big heart."

"Ka- Kasumi!"

"I- I'm sorry," Ravyn sputtered a hasty apologized. "I really didn't mean anything by it. Just a joke that put my own boot in my mouth."

Jav and Jack watched the scene, grins on their faces they didn't bother to hide, thoroughly entertained by what Kasumi was accomplishing. All they were missing was a bucket of popcorn, or whatever was the Krogan equivalent, and some comfy theatre chairs.

The innocent expression moved to the Turian, not a single break in the façade Kasumi put on. Jack knew, though. Inside she was grinning from ear to ear and giggling her thieving ass off.

"Are you sure? There's _a lot_ of room in Ana's bed. We can share. I'm not greedy." She shrugged. "Well, not too greedy anyways. I am a thief, after all."

If Turian's could blush, Ravyn's cheeks would be redder than Mars or Jupiter's red spot. Instead they were gifted with the sight of her mandibles flicking and twitching. Her jaw moved down and up, trying to find the words to decline and amend her joke.

"I'm already taken," she decided on.

_Bad choice_, Jack grinned. There weren't many ways to beat Kasumi in banter. It wasn't impossible, for those experienced with her at least. For newcomers, though, well, Ravyn had no chance. Every response she could think of would only dig her a hole the size of an Elcor mass grave.

"Ana's bed is _really_ big," Kasumi emphasized with her hands, still as innocent as could be. "The more the merrier, as the saying goes."

Shepard and Ravyn looked ready to combust from embarrassment. Any more and their heads would explode.

Fortunately for them, their expressions were too much for Jack to handle. It started as snickers, quiet and hidden. But like a viral bacteria, it mutated into cackles.

"Fu- fuck, I- I can't!" she managed to get out between laughs.

Where was a mirror when she needed one? Or someone willing to take a holo? If these two could see their faces matched with the master thief's innocent expression, they'd understand why she could barely _breathe_ let alone speak.

Her laughter proved infectious, spreading to Kasumi via a mirthful smile, then giggles. "I'm only teasing!" she said. "But it was totally worth it! You should see how flustered you two look!"

An elbow jabbed into her side from Jav. Jack looked over, caught between laughing and settling down, and took in the grin splitting his face. "I like her. Think we can steal her for our crew?"

Steal Kasumi? Jack snorted. "Not a chance, Big Guy. Nobody in this galaxy will be able to pry her from Shepard's side."

No one could separate those two now. Both had brushes with death too close for their liking. Both had been too close to losing one another forever on separate occasions. The only thing that could permanently pry them from one another was death, and as long as they had any say, death would have to wait an entire human lifespan to claim them.

Jav shrugged, still grinning. "It was worth a shot."

She couldn't blame him. Kasumi was one-of-a-kind. A bright light in an otherwise dark galaxy. Through the uncertainty of Shepard's recovery, she always put on a brave face and served as a source of constant positivity and warmth despite how much she hurt inside.

Even back during the Suicide Mission on the Normandy she found a way to keep the mood light, always dragging Shepard into some kind of scheme to cause trouble and get a laugh.

No matter how much anyone might scold her, they all appreciated her presence. Even when they were on the receiving end of her relentless teasing, turning as red as Shepard's hair in embarrassment or anger, they appreciated her ability to make them forget about their personal issues or problems of the galaxy.

_She really is perfect for Shepard. Or maybe they're perfect for each other._

Ah, she wasn't a romance expert or one for soft thoughts like that. Maybe they were perfect for each other. Maybe they weren't. Who cared? In the end, they loved one another with a love so strong, it hurt them to be separated.

Jack didn't know a lot about love or romance or relationships, but she knew what she saw between Kasumi and Shepard was real love. True love. Love only few fortunate people found in life.

Jack never considered herself the fortunate type. Teltin, the life she lived after, it wasn't some kind of fairytale story. No one dreamed of having her life. Sure she made the best of it. She had her fun, created her own memories and lived in the moment.

It was more than the average person could say, but the life she led didn't come without scars. Without suffering.

So did she believe she could find love like those two? Nah. Maybe she was fortunate enough to survive shitstorm after shitstorm, but fortunate enough to find love like theirs? No. She had better odds stumbling on a new species in the Sol System.

Though she did not believe, she still hoped. It was stupid, softhearted nonsense her past self would have scoffed and rolled her eyes at.

True love? For someone as scarred as her? Get real and grow up.

Who the hell could love someone like her? And who the hell could she even trust to care for? People toyed with emotions. They lied and cheated. They took and took and took from a person without ever giving anything in return then had the audacity to call it _love_.

People liked to believe the goal of a relationship was to have their significant other bending over backwards for them. That they were _so_ special and unique, to even be in their presence was a gift.

And no matter how much that person gave, no matter how hard that person tried to prove their love, it was never enough. Never. You could do a thousand different things for the person, but if you hadn't bent over backward in the last minute, then you hadn't done anything.

It was all bullshit. Why the hell would she want to waste her time searching for something like that?

She still felt relatively the same about people. The only change was her relationship with Miranda. Was it love? Jack didn't know. She wasn't even sure she knew what intimate love felt like.

Sure, she loved her students. They were her little brats. And she loved the Normandy team. They were her family. But intimate love? She hadn't ever experienced it before.

All Jack knew was she enjoyed spending time with Miranda and all the soft, warm feelings it gave her. If their relationship happened to make them look at one another the same way Shepard and Kasumi did, if they began to love one another, Jack wouldn't complain. Not one bit.

It wasn't as if Shepard and Kasumi went out looking for love or that she had either. The pair fell into it without realizing it. Who was to say she hadn't already fallen into it?

Secretly, she hoped.

"Jav, Ravyn, are the supplies…Oh." Jack turned her head at the sound of the serene and musical voice of Justicar Ria.

The Justicar walked ahead of an arriving party of Alliance, Asari and Turian soldiers. There weren't many faces she recognized among the group. Only a few she remembered from the Museum, though the others could have easily been there without her knowing. Wasn't as if she befriended every single soldier there.

She did see Shay, Ven'Rotha and Jugs among the group. Shay limped behind the group, an assistant or a Specialist trailing next to him speaking of whatever important data was on his data-pad. Ven and Jugs coordinated the rest of the soldiers, giving out orders and the like.

Ria looked as regal as ever. A Justicar thing, perhaps? Samara held the same air of regality to her, and both walked with a confident, dangerous sensuality that enticed people to look their way but keep the fuck out of it.

Her wise eyes took in Jack's appearance, checking her for injuries. Then they flitted over to Shepard's and Kasumi's presence, taking into account who the former was and likely sensing who Kasumi was to her.

The look of surprise changed into a welcoming smile. "Jack, I am pleased to see you are well and recovered after our final battle. I feared there would be lasting damage."

_There almost was_. Her amp nearly left her and Rodriguez crushed and buried by rubble.

Jack nodded her head in greeting, deciding to leave that particular detail out. "Hey, Justicar. Good to see you again."

"Please, Jack, call me Ria. We are not strangers any longer."

True. None of them were strangers anymore. After fighting and bleeding together, they were comrades and friends. Bound by the fires of war they marched through and by the blood they shed together to survive and come out on top.

She gave a nod. "All right, Ria."

It wasn't as if she liked formalities anyway. She only kept things formal with the Justicar most of the time because she respected her.

"You're a Justicar?" Shepard's shock was clear.

Jack empathized. When she first learned Ria was a Justicar, her response had been, _"You fucking serious? Damn, didn't think I'd meet two of you."_

"_Considering you are still alive, I will assume you met a sister of my order under favorable circumstances. Did she protect you or did you work together?"_

"_We worked together on the same squad for a suicide mission. She was fucking impressive."_

"_Ah, I see. Was she well when last you saw her?"_

_ "Saw her during my shore leave, actually. Samara's doing good. Still kicking ass and killing Reaper forces with the serenity of someone meditating in a Zen Garden."_

_ "Mm. Good."_

Ria turned her serene features to Shepard. Gratitude and respect flickered in her eyes as she bowed her head in greeting to the N7. Jack even swore there was humbleness in her expression, but the Justicar's unshakeable tranquility made her harder to read than Hanar bioluminescence.

"I am. Greetings, Commander Shepard. It is an honor to meet you."

Shepard bowed her head in return. "The honor is mine, Justicar Ria."

"I apologize that I must keep this meeting brief. The need for these supplies to reach their destination is great. But before I return to my duty, I have an innate need to impart a piece of wisdom my many centuries have taught me, if you would allow me."

"I'd be honored."

Ria's eyes moved from Shepard to Kasumi and then back. "In time, the galaxy will recover from the wounds the Reapers have dealt us. One day, perhaps sooner than you expect, you will find yourself at a crossroads between your duty and the dreams your heart yearns for most."

She smiled kindly at the N7, and for the first time Jack noticed sadness in her eyes. "Follow your heart, Anastasia Shepard. Be selfish. Live, love, find your peace. In this life, for soldiers such as us, there is but one opportunity to do so. Do not let it pass you by."

Those words hit close to home for Shepard and Kasumi. Closer than they expected, she guessed. Shepard's sky blue eyes filled with determination as she nodded, resolute to follow the Justicar's advice. "I won't."

The funny thing was the two lovebirds weren't the only ones affected by Ria's words. Jav's old features sobered; the solemnity in his eyes spoke volumes the same way Ria's did. Loves lost, either because of circumstance or a decision they made to follow their duties.

Ravyn's mandibles flicked as she shifted her weight between her feet, clearly uncomfortable but feeling the truth of the words.

Jack felt them too. She didn't know if she had a chance to reach such a crossroads, but if she did, if she was ever fortunate enough to get there, she promised to remember Ria's wisdom and follow her heart. To be selfish and seize her chance to find peace, live and love.

Life was too short not to seize such an opportunity, especially for people like them.

Ria bowed her head one last time. "Thank you for providing us the hope to keep fighting and the means to win the war. Should you ever require aid, you need but ask and I will come."

"Thank you."

Shimmering blue surrounded Ria. She reached her hand out and grabbed hold of two large crates then turned around with them.

"And Kasumi Goto." The thief perked up at the Justicar's voice, surprised her name was known by the century old being. "Support and love her with all of your heart. Do not miss a single moment."

Kasumi nodded to her back. "I will, and I won't. I promise."

"It was a pleasure meeting you both. Jack, what is the human saying? Don't be a stranger?"

Jack chuckled. "Yeah. That's it. I'll try not to be."

"Good. You are always welcome. Until we meet next, farewell."

Ravyn slapped Jav's arm and motioned him to the crates. "Come on, Old Man. We should get to work too."

"Yeah." Jav jabbed Jack in the arm. "Take care of yourself, you crazy kid."

"And take care of those students of yours," Ravyn said.

"I will, and the same goes for you guys. Wouldn't want Shay to get lonely."

"Bite me, Jack."

The Turian and Krogan grabbed the heaviest crate together and left. Shepard and Kasumi took their leave afterwards with Jack following only after sharing short conversations with Shay, Ven and Jugs.

Duty called, though. There was another job she and her students needed to complete, and that meant it was time to stop standing around.

Throughout the rest of her day she thought about Ria's words to Shepard. How they made her feel…hopeful, for a change, regarding her ability to love and be loved. She thought about Miranda, too. Affectionate thoughts she would never tell anyone because it'd be too embarrassing.

When all the work was done and 'night' was upon them all on the Citadel, Jack's thoughts led her to Miranda's door. Or maybe it wasn't her thoughts. Maybe it was her heart that she followed here.

Who could say?

Jack hesitated to ring the doorbell. It…didn't make sense why. Miranda invited her to return this morning. Told her she could swing by and stay the night again if she'd like. Hesitation wasn't her style, but with all the thoughts on her mind…

_Fuck it._

She rang the doorbell. Miranda opened the door a few moments later, greeting her with a smile. "Miss me?"

Jack rolled her eyes. "Whatever makes you feel better, Princess."

Yeah…she did.

Miranda stepped past the invisible border between her room and the hallway to take one of Jack's tattooed hands into her own. She stepped back, tugging lightly on the hand but not forcing her to cross the border into her room.

They always left the option to leave. It was always on the table, neither willing to admit how much they hoped it was never taken, but neither wanting to ever force the other to do something they did not want to.

"_Follow your heart."_

Jack listened to the guidance of the Justicar and followed her heart. She stepped past the border and into the room again, letting the doors shut behind her and Miranda renew her greeting with a tender kiss.

_"Do not miss a single moment."_

She wouldn't. She promised.


	21. Chapter 21: A Batarian's Legacy

Chapter 21

A Batarian's Legacy

Years ago, Gallick wasn't sure how many anymore—two decades? More? He preferred to forget the exact time; made him feel less like an aging, rusted war-machine about to disintegrate after years at the mercy of Khar'shan's sweltering environment.

Anyway, years ago he sat nursing some rancid piss a bar dared to call alcohol, slightly sober. Mostly drunk.

Seated next to him was someone who wasn't exactly a friend or an enemy, yet he couldn't pretend they were a stranger—unfortunately. An old…acquaintance, he supposed, calling on him to return to fight a battle he gave up on. A battle he gave years of his life and an eye to but got nothing in return except shattered dreams, a kill-on-sight order by the Hegemony and a smoking and drinking habit.

Three of those weren't so bad. In fact he quite liked his smoking, drinking and the hatred of the Hegemony. It built character, and the feeling was mutual.

_Fucking scum._

So no, he wasn't returning to fight an impossible battle. Who the hell could he even trust when killing him would turn a slave into the Batarian equivalent of a human king in the caste system? He'd have to sleep with one eye open and a shotgun in hand at all times. Suspect everyone of treason until he was killing his allies out of sheer paranoia.

They needed someone else. Someone who still had the will to fight. Someone from the next generation who could unite his people for the old cause. Or a new cause. He didn't give a shit.

Just leave him to his rancid piss and stop bringing up the exaggerated legends. He wasn't that Batarian anymore. Nothing of the hero, the leader, the legend remained. He was just an old war dog, waiting for the next punk to try to put him down for good.

An overwhelming disappointment.

The acquaintance did ask him one interesting question. One question that sobered him up instantly and provided him a way to shut them up.

_"What's your first memory of Khar'shan?"_

A simple question. Far simpler than blowing the doors off a crime family's base and taking down every son of a bitch inside. What was his first memory of his past life? The very first memory he could recall before this shitty bar and this disgusting excuse for alcohol.

_"I don't remember Khar'shan," he answered flatly._

_"Tch. Of course not. You've been gone too—"_

_"Shut your mouth before I blow your head off," he growled at the bite in his acquaintance quickly turning nuisance's voice. "You want to know my first memory? It isn't Khar'shan or any of those 'heroic' deeds you lecture me on. The earliest memory I have is a battlefield."_

He couldn't remember where it was anymore or why he was there. Not then and not now. But there were clear images forever burned into his memory banks. The kinds of images documentaries on war couldn't ever show. Horrors that remained uncaptured and forgotten by the galaxy, but not him.

He never forgot. And he never forgave.

_"I was still just some young kid. Younger than most of your so-called rebels. I'm standing alone, surrounded by the carcasses of comrades and enemies alike. The stench of our charred people, overheated weapons and every other scent war has ever wrought is in my nostrils."_

Those documentaries couldn't pass on those stomach churning smells to their viewers. Gallick could still smell it if he really thought about the day, though. The stench of charred corpses, of death and discharged weapons couldn't be so easily forgotten.

"_There are craters all around me from artillery rounds. My ears are ringing and the migraine I have is splitting my head in half. Why? Because there's a fucking piece of shrapnel I don't even know about lodged in my helmet and partially in my skull."_

That day he almost chose not to wear his helmet. Still a hotshot young kid thinking he could play it cool and tough in a war. Luckily his Sargent cracked him along the head with his own helmet before ordering him to wear it.

Good man. Cantankerous old bastard.

_Old_, Gallick chuckled. He hadn't even hit a quarter of a century. Gallick was old. His Sargent had only been a slightly older kid than him.

"_Had I not worn my helmet, I wouldn't be the sole survivor of some higher-ranked officer's decision to sacrifice an entire platoon of soldiers for victory and status. I'd be deader than the bastard who ordered it."_

It took years, but Gallick collected debts of blood owed to the credit. The call didn't need to be made. Soldiers didn't need to be sacrificed for a small victory in the grand scheme of the long war.

By the end of it, no one even remembered the battle.

Gallick remembered. And he remembered the bastard's frightened face when he forced the barrel of his shotgun into his mouth. The pleas for mercy. The curses. The blood splattering on his face as he blasted his head off.

Nobody fucked with his comrades.

"_As I stumbled across the ravaged battlefield, I come upon this poor dead bastard. Unlike most of the soldiers to die that day, he didn't die instantly. Both his legs were blown clean off. Bled out alone on some godless battlefield."_

Gallick couldn't remember if he had been an ally or enemy anymore. At that point, to his eyes, they were all comrades of tragedy.

He stood there staring at the man for a while. Minutes? An hour? He wasn't sure. But he remembered the feelings twisting his gut and the frown etched onto his gray features.

Eventually he decided to search for some sort of identification. He found personal items, though the specifics remained lost to time. There were still old tears on his heart from whatever he found. Those alone were enough to never seek out more.

Two items he recalled with full clarity were the cigarette pack missing three cigarettes and the lighter he still carried with him to this day.

"_I didn't smoke before then, but carnage like that changes a man inside and out. As I lit my first cigarette, I started to rethink my allegiances and my beliefs in such things as blind loyalty to the Hegemony._

"_That's the first memory I have. Nothing of my childhood or adolescence before the war. Nothing of my homeworld. All I remember is war. Carnage a merchant like you has never seen before."_

_The acquaintance growled at the insult. Gallick continued._

"_I've seen my closest friends and allies slaughtered before my eyes. I've been backstabbed. Tortured. My dreams for our people destroyed." He looked to his old acquaintance and shrugged. "Everything I touch turns to Varren shit. You're better off killing me and bringing back my head to join the higher caste."_

Imagine his surprise when the nuisance tried to follow his advice.

_Ruthless ambition. A Batarian to his end,_ Gallick mused, placing a cigarette between his lips and pulling out his old lighter.

The question always stuck with him for one reason or another. Memory was funny that way. His earliest memory remained the same to present day.

War sewed itself into his being. Armor was his skin. His weapons were extensions of his arms. The roars of gunfire, shouts of commands and biotic explosions a symphony of destruction akin to background music in his ears. War was in Gallick's blood.

For that reason, he didn't really even notice the gunfire, explosions and the rhythm of a giant mech trudging towards him as fast as its stiff joints allowed it.

_Same shit, different day_.

There were far more important matters at hand, like lighting his cigarette.

He flicked his lighter and received sparks. Two more attempts resulted in the same way.

Had he forgotten to refill it?

Gallick frowned and shook the lighter close to his ear. "Ah, shit," he grumbled. He _had_ forgotten to refill it. "Of all the damn luck."

Gallick removed the cigarette from his lips and glared at both items as if they committed blasphemy. He may as well have packed one of those chubby, plushy Volus toys, or a real Volus for that matter. They'd give him about the same relief and support as an empty lighter.

_At least I could have used it as a decoy._

The Batarian wasn't sure if he meant the toy or the Volus anymore.

Regardless, he shook the lighter next to his ear again, hoping he only misheard its empty state. His three eyes widened, pleasantly surprised by the slightest hint of fuel left over. It wasn't much. Hardly anything, really, but it was enough to spur him to try again.

Placing the cigarette between his lips again, Gallick flicked the lighter; once, twice, three, four, five times—sparks flashed in front of his weathered grey features.

"Ugh, stupid fucking thing," he growled.

Eight, nine, ten. Still sparks. But Gallick was a stubborn old man. He wouldn't give up even if it was the hundredth attempt. So long as there was fuel to be used, he would shake, twist and turn the lighter to every angle possible until he got his flame.

"Gallick, I know lighting your cigarette is _really_ important," Ghost's voice dripped with sarcasm. Young brat. Couldn't he tell he was busy? "But in case you haven't noticed, there is a _fucking_ Atlas stomping closer to you!"

"Yeah yeah. I'll deal with it in a minute," he brushed off his leader.

Who cared about the Atlas? Ignoring the cigarette between his lips was nearly as sacrilegious as ignoring a bottle of uncut Batarian ale. Only nearly, though. Uncut Batarian ale stood above cigarettes any day of the week.

_And now I'm thirsty and in need of a smoke._

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.

"Gallick!"

Twenty-four. Twenty-five.

A tiny flame burst to life from his lighter. _I don't have a lot of time._

He placed the flame at the end of his cigarette and ignited it. The flame died out an instant later.

Gallick stuffed the lighter back into his armor compartment and took a long drag, exhaling smoke from his nostrils and smiling in pleasure.

It took some hard work, but his mission was accomplished. Now he could deal with the machine about five meters from his position.

"You worry too much, Ghost," Gallick chastised. "This is all going according to plan."

"Does that plan including being squished by an Atlas? 'Cause I'd prefer to keep you around longer, you crusty bastard."

"You're so sentimental. Too sentimental. It makes me sick."

"Aw, we love you too, Gallick," Kar chuckled over the comm.

Explosions followed the Krogan's voice, the result of his Striker Assault Rifle blasting whatever enemies were in his way. From his position, Gallick could only see Ghost perched at a slightly higher vantage point; the hard pounding of his Black Widow rippled through the air like anti-aircraft fire.

"Ugh," he feigned disgust. "Don't make me throw up."

The Atlas lumbered another step forward, firing its heavy gun into his cover. Shockwaves vibrated through the surface, making his teeth tingle as it shook his bones.

_And now you die._

Gallick pulled a set of grenades off his armor, activated them and gently tossed them over the solid cover. They tumbled and rolled across the ground right under the Atlas. He knew even without seeing it.

The grenades went off as he exhaled more smoke. Gripping his N7 Piranha, he stood up and turned to face the machine, prepared to finish the job. The left leg of the Atlas collapsed to its knee. His grenades had done exactly as he hoped, tearing apart the joints to disable the maneuverability of the machine. Now he could kill it without even trying.

Gallick unloaded his entire thermal clip into the pilot and watched as the simulation dispersed.

One giant enemy down, who the hell knew how many more left. Damn simulation was glitching worse than a half-repaired Tuchanka terminal.

Then again, this was exactly what he, Ghost and Kar signed up for. The techys needed someone to kill their simulations as they recalibrated and attempted to fix the problems. Only difference between this and the usual Armax Arsenal Arena fights was these simulations wouldn't stop if they went down. They'd keep attacking until they died.

_Same shit, different fight._

"Show off!" Ghost laughed.

Gallick shrugged, lowering his shotgun and taking the cigarette from his mouth as he looked to his leader. He blew a perfect smoke O-ring at him.

"Nice kill, Gallick," the simulation announcer's voice congratulated. "Gallick, ten points. Kar and Ghost, you two better start picking up your slack."

"Hey! I've been killing these punks left and right, Kasumi! He gets one Atlas kill and suddenly I'm slacking?!" Ghost retorted.

"No data available?"

"Don't you play coy with me, Kasumi Goto!"

"Welcome to Armax Arsenal Arena!"

"I know you're still there!"

"Pyjak, less talking, more killing!" Kar said.

Gallick waded into the fighting with all the leisure of a human walking in the Presidium Park. He wasn't in much of a rush. With him, Kar and Ghost on the field, they dictated the pace of the battle even against overwhelming hordes of enemies.

Several Husks, Abominations, sneaky Geth Hunters full of shotgun rounds later, Gallick leaned against a tall wall to casually exhale another breath of smoke.

This battle wasn't so bad, he supposed. Intense enough to keep him aware of the battlefield at all times, boring enough for him to enjoy his habit to the fullest.

He lifted his shotgun and aimed it to his left, unloading a round into a Cerberus Trooper's face before placing the cigarette back between his lips.

"Can you please stop smoking in the arena?"

The announcer's voice sounded disgustingly cheery, yet he could hear the desperate plea behind it. One of the techys, no doubt. Gallick rolled his three eyes and turned to face the viewing area where Kasumi, Miranda Lawson, some Grissom Academy students and the Triple A personnel were.

"Sure."

"Thank yo—"

"Come down and switch with me," he interrupted, waving them down to him, keeping his voice casual, as if discussing a heatwave on Khar'shan with a friend. "You can run and hide from simulations intending to kill you and I'll go get some uncut Batarian ale to enjoy. Kar and Ghost could use the challenge of protecting a civilian."

"It'd make this more interesting!" Kar bellowed and grabbed a Centurion by the throat. "Hi there, Vorcha shit! Hahaha!" He smashed his giant headplate into its simulated head. The poor bastard disappeared.

"The stakes would certainly be raised," Ghost joined in, the smirk in his voice clear. "Hey, whoever asked, come on down here! I promise to keep you safe!"

Silence.

"I think we scared them," Ghost said.

"So much for uncut Batarian ale," Gallick groaned. He stretched out his back and cracked his neck. "Ah well, guess killing these helpless fools will have to be my enjoyment."

Ghost chuckled. "Admit it, you're having fun."

Eh, he was having fun. Lately he felt too cooped up. Being on a battlefield, even a simulated one, helped him stretch his old war legs out. Bonus points for Cerberus being served to him on a silver platter.

Telling the kid that, however, wasn't nearly as fun.

"I've had more fun crashing a funeral," Gallick retorted dryly, expelling the smoke from his lungs like one of those human dragons.

Kar roared with laughter. "Hahaha! Now that's my kind of party! Where was my invite?"

"Lost in the extranet," he deadpanned.

Gallick hoisted his shotgun back into position and peeked around his cover for enemies. His three eyes caught the glimmer of a cloak. Smaller in size than the Geth hunter, but also not standing upright like a Nemesis.

_Phantom then._

Oh, he had a special gift for those sword-wielding bastards.

"Aw, you wound me, Gallick. Now I have to mutilate this disgusting excuse for a Turian."

Gallick snorted as he sauntered away from his previous position. "Don't frighten the kids, Kar," he chastised lightly. "They still have to tuck themselves into bed tonight and dream of…whatever humans dream of. Pixels and uniforms or something."

"The words you're looking for are pixies and unicorns," Ghost corrected, amused.

Gallick shrugged. "Sure, those."

"Don't worry. Grandpa Kar will sing them a Krogan lullaby tonight! They'll dream of Krogan Battlemasters and hear our tribal drums pound Tuchanka on our way to war!"

"I think that's what they're afraid of."

The sound of a Cain Mine exploding behind him made Gallick peer over his shoulder. All that was left of the Phantom was its code disappearing into nothingness. _Dumbass should have checked his corners._

"So, this funeral you crashed," Ghost changed the subjects effortlessly.

"Ah, it was decades ago. Before the Hegemony marked me for death." He ducked behind cover to avoid the concentrated fire of a Ravager. "Some woman killed a higher-caste member to increase her own status. Can't blame her; the man was a prick. And it worked for her. Before I left she was still flourishing."

Just the Batarian way of life. A slave could buy their freedom, work their way up the caste by any means necessary to join those born into the high-caste.

Or, that's how it was before. Thanks to the Reapers the caste didn't exist anymore. They were all refugees now. Stranded and homeless. On equal ground and actually looking to keep it that way.

He hoped they wouldn't waste this moment.

"Krogan airdrop incoming!" Kar dove from the higher part of the arena, roaring and laughing manically as gravity crashed him on top of the Ravager pinning Gallick down. The old Krogan pulled one of its mechanical guns off and smashed it into the enemy. "Join your ancestors I sent to the Void, Rachni scum!"

"Um, Kar, you know these are just simulations still, right?" Ghost asked, more curious than nervous.

"Of course! But I'm going for the high score! More points for hand to hand kills!" he said, smashing his hands together to accent his point.

"All right. As you were then." Gallick heard his private comm flicker on. "You think he remembers the scoreboard is broken? I mean, I want to tell him, but look at that grin! He's having a blast."

The war veteran chuckled. "Don't spoil it for him. I'll take him to drink his sorrows away later when he realizes it."

"Good plan." The comm turned off. "You never finished telling us about the funeral, by the way."

Gallick popped out of cover and unloaded on two Geth Pyros closing into range. His rounds tore through their shields and ignited the tanks on their backs. As he ducked back into cover, their fuel tanks exploded.

The Batarian took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled again. "Oh, right. The prick the woman killed had a brother—another member of the higher-caste and one of the financial arms of my enemies. Also a prick. I think it was hereditary.

"Anyway, I saw an opportunity to handicap my enemies. The brother would be at the funeral. Security would be at his side like pet Varrens, so it wouldn't be clean, but I still went."

"How come?"

"To make a statement," he answered. "The funeral wasn't how the vids make them out to be. It's always rain, tears and cold in those things. On that day the sun was shining on the dead bastard and his prick brother, and I had more sweat on me than an aged Asari whore in the middle of a Krogan pounding _before_ the fighting started."

"…Well, there's an image I didn't need," Ghost muttered.

"Me sweating?"

"No. Come on, Gallick, we went to war together. We've seen each other covered in worse than sweat."

"True," he nodded.

"I meant the aged Asari and Krogan."

"What's the matter, Pyjak? Feeling inadequate? Afraid your little blue princess might want _more_ than you can provide? Hahaha!" Kar chuckled ruthlessly.

"Never. But I also don't want the image of an old, wrinkly grandpa having sex with an even older grandma."

"Ouch. I think you hurt my cuddly hearts, Ghost."

"Hmph. Asari Matriarchs don't get wrinkles. They get larger breasts," Gallick said. "People would give up their freedom to become a Matriarchs bedroom plaything, all for a chance to dive face first into their—"

"Gallick! The children!" the announcer's cheery voice reprimanded.

Gallick rolled his eyes. "They're teenagers, Kasumi. Check their extranet search history. You'll find worse."

He peeked over cover for enemies. A red laser sighted him down followed by a round ricocheting off his shields. The Batarian growled. "Ghost, mind blowing the head off that—" The head of the Nemesis popped. "Thanks."

"Got your back. How'd crashing the funeral go?"

"Pretty entertaining for a funeral. Started out slow, dull and quiet, but by the end it was a real Batarian party."

Gunfire, explosions, curses slung in every direction—the usual party games.

Their conversation lulled through battle. Orders from Ghost and maniacal laughter from Kar now and then interrupted the rising crescendo of gunfire. Gallick smoked in relative peace while killing the simulations, yet his veteran eyes noticed the steady increase of difficult enemies.

Husks, Abominations and their weaker ilk appeared less often. Their numbers were being replaced by more formidable enemies, either heavily armored like the Brutes and Dragoons or heavily armed like the Ravagers and increasing number of Possessed Collectors.

Something wasn't right. Or maybe it was perfectly right. So far they walked through their enemies at their own pace, killing them at their own leisure without much effort despite the glitching simulation.

Now it was beginning to feel like the final push of a war. The last act of desperation by the simulation to kill its invaders. Kar and Ghost noticed it too. Kar stopped running out on his own, sticking closer to the team and coordinating strategies rather than "going for the high score" as he was before.

Ghost didn't jest nearly as often. Gallick noticed from his cover multiple times the steely look in the human's eyes. He wore the same look in every real fight they encountered before the war and during it.

Through the war, though, it grew harder. No doubt the kid was feeling the differences between their fun before and the rising intensity of the battle.

For Gallick, he kept smoking as long as he could, but when the shrill screech of a Banshee cut through the battlefield, chills shot down his spine and turned his weathered grey features back to that of the war machine he became.

_I'll never forget that cry._ The cold, shrill cry of death approaching.

Besides the Banshee, he spotted three Scions, four Geth Juggernauts and an Atlas on the field. Among them were the average ground troops.

This was no longer just a simulation or fun and games. Shit was about to get as serious as the war.

"Gallick, Kar, regroup," Ghost ordered, voice devoid of humor.

Gallick stamped out his cigarette and retreated, moving from cover to cover and laying down fire for Kar as he returned as well.

The entire way back to Ghost he could hear the sound of biotics rippling through the air as the Banshee teleported across the field, its haunting cries reaching out and clawing at the N7 Talons memories.

The war veteran took cover next to his leader, Kar mirroring his other side as Ghost unloaded more rounds from his Black Widow at the teleporting monstrosity.

"Gallick, I know I called bringing a missile launcher ridiculous, but I'm really glad you did. We're going to need it," Ghost said.

"I've got three rounds with it," Gallick said, folding up his shotgun and placing it back onto the magnetic seal. He pulled the missile launcher from his back and checked it over. "I spotted four Juggernauts, three Scions, an Atlas and that Banshee."

"And a partridge in a pear tree," Ghost muttered.

Sounded like nonsense. He didn't know any enemy classification under the name of 'partridge.' Trees also weren't anywhere in this glitched simulation. _Must be some human thing._

Such a strange species.

"All right," Ghost spoke up, "our best bet is to try and get as many of these big bastards grouped together for you to hit them. With the Banshee, we'll have to keep moving to avoid getting hit by its biotic attacks and its claws."

"There's not a lot of cover for you, Ghost," Kar pointed out. "Gallick and I can withstand anything these squishy vermin dish out. You're human body and armor isn't built to take the level of fire we'll be under."

Ghost shot a smirk at the Krogan. "Come on, I survived a bomb and a dive into the Presidium Lake. I'm a lot more durable than I look."

The rippling biotics sounded off on the other side of their cover, maybe four meters away.

"Everybody ready?" Ghost asked. Two sharp nods. "All right. Let's get to work gentlemen."

The squad dashed from cover to put distance between them and the Banshee. Heavy arms fire from the large enemies collided against walls and whistled past the trio. Kar and Ghost unloaded their weapons into what enemies they could, taking down the average soldiers while weakening the armor or barriers of the heavies.

Gallick's eyes remained on his goal. Kar and Ghost were going to bust their asses to give him the opening he needed to take down as many of the heavies as possible. He couldn't let it go to waste. When the opportunity arrived, he had to pull the trigger without hesitation. It was the only way they were going to get out of this alive.

His first shot sailed wide of the Scions. Despite his aim being true, the thruster of the missile veered off on its own.

Colorful Batarian curses blanketed the arena as he reloaded on the run. It took longer to get the second shot lined up. The Banshee was hot on their tails and the Scions adjusted their positions. Meanwhile the Juggernauts and Atlas did not relent in their assault.

The trio took cover to recharge shields and size up the battlefield. Gallick lined up his shot again. Plenty of enemies lined up this time. Then, out of nowhere, a blast from the Juggernaut knocked his shields down and toppled him on his ass.

A three-fingered hand grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into cover. "Still alive, Gallick?" Kar asked.

"Fucking flashlight head," he coughed as he sat up.

"Banshee is on her way after us again. Get ready to move," Ghost said.

Gallick cursed under his breath, grabbed his missile launcher and prepared to move. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

"Don't start with that again," Ghost chuckled. "You've got plenty of decades of me annoying you to look forward to."

"_Great_," he drawled.

They darted for new cover, dodging their would-be simulated murderers to the best of their abilities.

Ghost dove over a low wall. Gallick followed, sliding across the top and hurrying back into cover to avoid a biotic attack from the Banshee. Kar lumbered around a taller wall then immediately popped out of cover to unload some covering fire.

Ghost's Black Widow's heatsink vented after one shot. "Crap," he cursed.

"Pyjak, I got some thermal clips on that last run! Here! Make them count!" The old Krogan tossed two thermal clips to his leader then laid down more covering fire.

"Thanks Kar."

Gallick crouched low and lined up his shot on the group of Scions. As his finger pressed down on the trigger, Ghost's body slammed into his. "Get down!"

The missile round sailed off towards the ceiling harmlessly. Simultaneously another far larger missile flew over the two bodies.

"Sorry about that, Gallick," Ghost apologized as he got off him.

"Don't apologize for saving my life."

"I've got a crazy idea to give you the time you need to line up a shot. Just make sure you don't hesitate to fire, all right?" Ghost asked.

Gallick nodded. "Never do."

"Kar, I need you to stay here and cover Gallick."

"You've got it, Pyjak."

"What's your plan?" Gallick questioned.

Ghost smirked. "You're better off not knowing. Just be ready." Then his leader dashed away out of cover. He put away his Black Widow and pulled out his M-11 Suppressor, plugging a few rounds into the Banshee. "Hey you, you withered old hag! Come and get me!"

Gallick fought the urge to slap his forehead. Instead he prepared his shot as Ghost ordered him to. "Come on, kid."

Every enemy locked on to Ghost as he made a mad dash across the field towards the Scions.

Kar unloaded rounds at everything that moved. "Keep running, Pyjak! Don't stop moving!" he coached.

The Banshee was warping after him. Heavy fire from the Scions and Atlas peppered the ground around Ghost. He slid behind one low wall to avoid a direct hit, but a Scion launched a cluster of grenades right at his position.

The purple eyed N7 scrambled across the ground, still resolute on his original destination without fear and without second guessing himself. He discharged a thermal clip and unloaded three rounds into the Banshee then three more into one of the Scions.

"Just a bit closer, kid." Gallick sighted down the missile launcher and kept his finger lightly on the trigger. "Almost there."

Ghost vaulted a barrier, slid between the legs of a hulking Scion and kept running. His tactical cloak made him fade away into thin air, much like a ghost.

"Now, Gallick!"

Gallick pressed down on the trigger and launched his final missile. It's thrusters carried it across the battlefield and right towards the Scions. Just as the Banshee teleported among the three Scions, the missile hit its target.

The resulting explosion and splash damage killed the four instantly, an agonizing final screech echoing from the Banshee as it drew its last breath.

Their troubles were far from over, but the trio exhaled audible sighs of relief to the dent they made. Ghost regrouped with them to discuss their next move.

As Gallick watched the purple eyed N7, thinking of the crazy stunt he just pulled off, he couldn't help but smile in pride.

_I suppose not everything I touch turns to Varren shit._

This kid, The Setting Sun, the N7 Talons, they all turned out all right despite his presence.

He would always carry the scars and memories of the battles he fought, as well as the burden of his failures. Yet this crew was something special to him.

He helped guide its leader to forge a new legend—the legend of the N7 Talons. A group founded by a young human and Turian, bound together by their brotherly bond and determination to live life their own way

Over time, the group gained new members. Two Asari soldiers leaving behind military life for moral choices. A Drell assassin who gave up his reputation to free people he owed nothing to, unable to let his choices bring further darkness to this galaxy. An old Krogan who survived more wars than they would ever see. Two hotheaded humans, a nervous Turian and an old Batarian soldier.

They had lost friends to the Blue Suns, but together they forged ahead, becoming respected and feared mercenaries. When war came calling, they answered and ascended from their past to galactic war-heroes, and then the first cross-species N7 team.

As far as legacies go, Gallick couldn't ask for better.

* * *

"Ghost is one crazy bastard," Miranda noted as she and Kasumi headed back to Shepard's apartment.

It took several hours of hard work for the technicians to feel comfortable sending a team inside the Arena. Even then the reprogramming glitches in the system were bad enough to send a Salarian into a bloodrage.

The simulation trapped the N7 Talons within its lethal dungeon, as it had with Shepard, Jack and Grunt before the end of the war, sending an entire legion of troops to kill the intruders.

Rooting out the problems took patience and level-headed workers. They had to work nimbly under pressure, fixing the glitches in the system before the N7 Talons could be overwhelmed. It took time.

_And plenty of guns and explosions_, Miranda mused.

By Earth standards, midnight was nearly upon them; the claws of sleep dug their talons deep into the students and technicians present for the job. For Miranda, Kasumi, Ghost and his team it was just another day at the office. The war attuned them to the pattern of jumping from one fire to another.

The N7 Talons were quite impressive. During her time in Cerberus, she didn't witness carnage of the levels those three displayed, where three warriors stomped through overwhelming enemy forces in a far more successful imitation of the Spartans at Thermopylae. Not until Shepard, at least.

Cerberus typically acted as a scalpel, not a lumberjack chainsaw attached to a grenade launcher. This wasn't to say missions couldn't go awry, or some agents didn't seek out as much collateral damage as possible—it did happened, probably more than the Illusive Man was willing to admit.

But working with Shepard introduced her to battles where they didn't hold the numbers advantage or have strategic pieces already in hand. Their mission to recruit Thane, for instance, required them to fight through hordes of mechs and Eclipse mercenaries.

Cerberus would have simply avoided the fight completely by equipping an agent with a sniper rifle outside of the building, if their goal was assassination. The other option would be to send an agent in using top-of-the-line cloaking technology to reach the target with little to no confrontation.

Shepard chose the direct approach. They used cover, strategies and sheer force to push from point to point towards their objective. Whether she was being backed up by powerhouses like Jack or refined warriors like Samara, she dictated the pace of a battle through her discipline and tactical mind to overcome overwhelming numbers.

The battles Miranda took part in and read the reports on were a stark contrast to usual Cerberus operations. They left a trail of bodies and carnage wherever they went. Had they been an average Cerberus Cell, they'd have been dissolved faster than Mordin could say problematic.

Not that it mattered. Shepard was a special investment. The amount of credits spent on her during the Lazarus Project would make a Volus banker shudder.

All the Illusive Man wanted from her was results—and she delivered, proving why she was such a bloody icon in the process. What's more, unlike normal Cerberus operations, Shepard's missions never required anyone to question their morals.

_Although I can't say I questioned them much before her._

They fought the worst of the worst; mercenaries who would do anything for credits, slavers, Collectors, heretic Geth and eventually Reapers.

Civilians were never caught between their crosshairs. They never had to perform despicable experiments or target politicians who opposed Cerberus to ensure "humanity's future" or other such nonsense.

Shepard might have dragged them into crazy situations, but she did for selfless reasons and always brought them through with no casualties. The only friends to lose their lives on their team were out of her control.

Ashley on Virmire—it was either her or Kaiden and the Salarian's to die. Shepard chose to save the most lives, as always. Mordin, Thane and Legion all by their own decisions to sacrifice themselves for the sake of others.

Honestly, Miranda's name could have easily been on the Normandy's memorial wall. Without Shepard warning her of Kai Leng, she wouldn't have even considered him a threat. He was supposed to be dead.

_He is now._

Still, she would have sacrificed herself willingly for her sister's life, just as her comrades before her had done for a better future.

The N7 Talons combat prowess reminded her a lot of her time on Shepard's squad. They worked so fluidly together. Even when they didn't appear to have a plan at all, or a care for the battle going on around them, their battlefield awareness and teamwork kept the overwhelming forces at bay until the final stretch.

_There aren't many sane people who would run headfirst into that mess as bait._

Kasumi and Miranda watched in awe and horror at Ghost's insanity. He clearly had incredible luck. What else could get him through it without a single scratch? Then, as if running across the battlefield at three Scions with a Banshee chasing him wasn't enough, Ghost continued his insanity to finish off the final enemies.

After the Scions and Banshee were dealt with, the N7 Talons came to a startling realization.

_"All we have left are a few rounds each? Damn it, why couldn't they just keep guns how they were in the old days before thermal clips? I never faced a crisis of reloading or no rounds left back then,"_ Ghost had groaned in agitation.

_"You forget to reload?"_ Gallick questioned humorously.

_"When the switch first happened. I can't count how many times I thought I had fired five shots instead of six."_

_ "Ha! You never got to witness Pyjak's impotent rage Gallick?"_

_ "My impotent rage?"_ Ghost sounded incredibly offended by the phrase.

His clear offense left Gallick and Kar chuckling to themselves at his expense. _"Tell you what Kar: We get out of this alive and I'll buy you some ryncol. Then you can tell me all about it."_

_"You've got yourself a deal, Gallick."_

Kasumi couldn't hide her giggles for the life of her at Ghost's offended body language. Miranda allowed a small smile to form but nothing else. Someone here had to be the adult.

Instead of defending himself, Ghost initiated yet another harebrained plan to take down the Atlas mech and Juggernauts.

He activated his cloak and, after closing the distance between himself and the Atlas, reappeared in front of it. He dodged under its swinging arm, scrambling across the floor on his hands and toes, then dodged out of reach of a grab at the last moment.

Ghost, without thinking, hopped onto the arm and held on tightly as the pilot tried to throw him off and squash him with its other arm. The sight would have been laughable if the consequences of failure weren't fatal.

Gallick and Kar opened fire on the Atlas to buy their leader time and crack the canopy open before their heatsinks vented.

The exchange happened in seconds, yet it felt like minutes. Ghost finally found a foothold and jumped to the glass canopy, smashing through it with his enforcement gauntlet.

Once inside, the N7 put the pilot in a chokehold with one arm, simultaneously using the other to aim the main gun of the mech at the Juggernauts. He opened fire and took them down then placed a Cain Mine on the pilot, saluted him and jumped out to a safety.

The mine detonated behind him, destroying the Atlas mech and pilot.

_"Who's impotent rage now?"_

_"I think you were trying to overcompensate,"_ Kar replied without blinking while wearing a large grin.

Ghost could only shake his head. The simulation ended afterwards. A job well done, overall, if one didn't think about how close the purple eyed N7 came to death again.

The technicians planned to open up the arena tomorrow for the public again. Ghost announced his desire to come back for another round for charity and fun. According to a message she received from Jack earlier in the day, Shepard planned to do the same for Kepral Syndrome at some point.

"Ghost enjoys pulling crazy stunts like that sometimes," Kasumi informed. "I'm more surprised Shep hasn't done anything like that yet. I would have thought by now she would add 'jumping on an Atlas while it's piloted' onto her list of crazy accomplishments."

She pursed her lips in thought. "Then again, you can't really top facing down a Reaper on foot with nothing but a targeting laser. Not even Ghost can top that."

Miranda exhaled a tired laugh and joined the thief in the elevator leading to Shepard's apartment.

Normally she would head back to her room for sleep, regardless of how late it was. Tonight, however, Shepard's apartment called to her. The walk back to her room was simply too far for her tonight when a bed awaited her a short walk away.

"I don't think anyone can top that," she said.

"Well, not unless someone like Cerberus decides 'hey, let's revive a Reaper and try to control it. It will grant us unbelievable power.' And then Shep goes out with a targeting laser to blow it to kingdom come, again," Kasumi said in a light-hearted manor.

"I don't think Shepard plans on fighting anything as large as a Reaper with just a targeting laser ever again."

Kasumi crossed her arms over her chest and mocked a serious expression under the shadow of her hood. "She better not or she'll be in deep trouble when I find out." The doors to the elevator opened, allowing the two women to exit and head into the apartment. "I wonder if anyone is up."

_Mm. Anyone, huh?_ "Or just Shepard," she teased.

"No. I was wondering if Jack was too, for your sake that is. You two would make a cute couple if you got past this whole 'sexual tension' stage." She supplied finger quotes for her mention of sexual tension.

Unneeded finger quotes.

Miranda didn't know what possessed her to try to win a round of banter this late. Or why she walked herself so easily into that comeback, but she didn't have the energy to glare or continue arguing. "Not tonight, Kasumi."

"Oh fine. Party pooper," she pouted.

They entered the apartment to find it mostly dark, save for the artificial fireplace. It illuminated the one person in the room who was also nose deep in a data-pad by the look of it.

"Leave it to Shepard to be working this late," Miranda mused. She looked to the thief. "I trust you two will be fine without my company?"

Miranda didn't wait for an answer before turning to go to the backroom, offering a tired goodnight over her shoulder.

Today had been quite a day. Her first day working with some of the Grissom Academy students—a sort of trial run with limited variables in a controlled setting.

_Some things never change_. The thought was her own, yet it came via Jack's voice, a humored smirk no doubt twisted on her scarred lips. Drawled sarcasm sprinkled on top.

Miranda shut her eyes and snorted. _Nobody's perfect._

She entered into the darkened backroom, the only light provided by the dimmed closet. After locking the door behind her under enough security to raise suspicions, Miranda sauntered over to the bed, sat herself on the edge as gently as possible, peeled her shoes and socks off then meandered over to the closet to put them out of the way.

Shoes away, the raven-woman shut the dimmed light off and retraced her steps back to the bed. She pulled the covers back enough for her to slip in, sliding quietly and as stealthily as she could until she reached the curled up, warm body in the center.

Miranda didn't say a word, not wanting to disturb Jack's sleep.

Perhaps more than a close bed called to her. Perhaps learning Jack was "crashing at Shepard's" in her words helped sway the raven-haired woman's decision to sleep here instead.

She would rise in the morning before everyone anyways—Jack included. No one would ever know they were here together, as Jack and Miranda preferred it for the time being.

The tension in her body faded as she melted into the soft bed. Miranda rested a hand lightly against Jack's abdomen and scooted herself closer so her front pressed flush against her back in a warm cuddle.

She watched the silhouette of Jack's head for a few silent, worrisome moments, yet she did not stir. Breathing a soft sigh of relief, Miranda nuzzled close, shut her eyes and prepared to sleep.

"Your hand is fucking freezing," Jack murmured groggily.

Said hand about launched off back to Earth in shock and embarrassment. It didn't get anywhere when the tattooed hand entwined with it and held it against her abdomen. "Jack, give me back my hand. If it's so cold, I see no sense in—"

"Shut up, Princess. Was awake the moment the door opened anyways."

"Curse of being a light sleeper," she mused in a hushed whisper, knowing the feeling of snapping up at the slightest disturbance. She pressed a tender kiss against the back of Jack's bare neck. "I'm sorry. I should have been more considerate."

"Don't apologize for stupid things," the groggy voice chided. Jack shifted on her side, pressing her back further against Miranda's front and gliding her apparently cold hand closer to her sternum. "Mm." The peaceful hum encouraged her to relax her hand and arm. "How'd it go with the kids?"

"You want to talk work now?" Miranda questioned, confused.

"Answer the question, Princess."

"It went…Hmm, it went well, I think. It wasn't even a quarter of their group, and it wasn't exactly a teaching setting—"

"Did you enjoy it?"

Miranda paused. "Yes, I did."

"Did the kids enjoy themselves?"

"Yes."

"Then it went well. Don't get caught up on tiny shit. What's important is getting a feel for their personalities and just being natural with them. You can be all professional with Kahlee, but with the kids, be yourself. Give 'em shit. Do the cheeky shit you do with me."

"Cheeky shit?" Miranda asked, amused. "Quite the turn of phrase, Jack. Your crude language is as colorful as a rainbow, ironically enough."

"See? Sass 'em like you sass me and they'll love you."

She made it sound so simple, as if her personality wasn't as dry and bland as military rations. "I'll…try. It's different with you and the others. We've spent so much time together; I learned what is safe and what is off limits, who has thicker skin and who doesn't. And I—"

Miranda narrowed her eyes as Jack's fingers pinched the back of her hand. "Ow," she said dryly.

"Stop letting the tiny details get in the way. You think I knew any of that when I started hurling shit at my kids?" Her fingers entwined with Miranda's again. "You'll learn all that as you go. So what if you trip and stumble? It's just a part of being human. Making mistakes is what makes you normal."

Miranda smiled and placed another kiss, this one on her cheek. "You know, sometimes real wisdom comes out of that crude mouth of yours. But only sometimes."

"Oh, fuck off, Princess," Jack chuckled tiredly. She yawned softly and squeezed Miranda's hand. "My schedule is clear tomorrow, and so is yours. I asked Kahlee, so don't even try to pretend it isn't." Well, there goes teasing and playing hard to get. "Let's do something together, away from the others."

"My my, are you asking me on a date? How bold," Miranda said, a smile in her voice and on her lips.

"Call it what you want, Princess."

"Mm." She kissed the crook her neck. "Okay."

Jack turned to lay flat on her back. Even in the darkness Miranda could tell she was staring at her in surprise. "Just like that? No plan? No questions asked? You feelin' all right?"

Miranda arced an eyebrow up, a humored smirk tugging onto her lips. "Would you rather I get caught up on a tiny detail again?" she asked innocently.

"Hmph. Walked myself into that one," Jack chuckled, turning back onto her side and pressing her back against Miranda's front again.

"That you did. Quite marvelously I might add." Miranda nuzzled into Jack. "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll get an itinerary ready for us by the mornings end."

"Go ahead. I'll Warp it into dust."

"I'm sure."

A comfortable silence fell between them. Miranda shut her eyes and exhaled a soft, tired breath. "Goodnight, Jack."

"Night, Miranda."


	22. Chapter 22: Our Normal

Chapter 22

Our Normal

The Terra Firma incident revealed one of the Illusive Man's backup plans. Through an anti-alien political group—led by a man he placed in power—Cerberus and its goals would live on to consolidate the power of humanity under their banner, snatching it from right under their noses while the galaxy recovered from the war.

Their openly xenophobic sentiment would draw new recruits in, and from them reliable agents could be plucked out of the mediocrity to fulfill the necessary roles, whether as public faces or agents of shadow.

Charles Saracino, however, acted too hastily, and targeted his cross-hairs on the wrong person. He may have even found success had he not involved Shepard by attacking Kasumi.

Instead he exchanged his luxurious political life for the luxurious enclosed space of a C-Sec cell, sacrificing what little reputation Terra Firma had for an ignorant gambit with no happy ending for his organization.

The investigations dug up enough corruption, treason, racketeering and money laundering charges—not to mention murder—to put him and his associates away for several Asari lifetimes.

Something about Terra Firma's actions nagged at Miranda's operative wired brain. They felt like the distraction. They felt like the shiny object capturing the attention of the galaxy while the real threat slipped into the shadows.

The Illusive Man was an exceptionally talented and intelligent man. Denying his ability's to foolishly spite him would be this galaxy's greatest blunder if allowed to transpire.

Miranda refused to allow it.

The Illusive Man took one hell of a risk positioning Cerberus on the frontlines of the Reaper War. His gamble was high-risk high-reward, guaranteeing nothing, but with the potential to gain a galaxy changing asset. No different than the Lazarus Project, really.

By successfully gaining the Mars Archive Intel, as well as the Thessia VI, the Illusive Man could, in theory, control the Reapers and have access to a wealth of knowledge and information spanning the lifespan of the Milky Way Galaxy.

This information and knowledge could then be used to advance humanity into a Golden Age. Humanity would then surpass the alien species who had inhabited the galactic scene far longer than their young species.

Humanity's dominance was guaranteed. The goal of Cerberus fulfilled down to the letter, by the man who formed Cerberus no less. Among humans, few with such grandiose goals as the Illusive Man's ever saw their work finished in their lifetime.

In practice his decisions nearly brought about their demise. He handed the Reapers the Citadel, placing the fate of the galaxy on the precarious edge of a knife.

So, knowing the odds could shift either way at any moment because of the Reapers, add in calculations for Shepard's impossible feats thwarting her gamble, Miranda didn't believe a backup plan was simply an intelligent move—it was essential to the survival of Cerberus.

The mythological Cerberus was a three-headed hell-hound. If Cerberus followed the three-headed myth as more than simple symbolism, the Illusive Man was the main head, and Charles Saracino stood in as a secondary head, which left a single head unaccounted for.

That boded ill for the Milky Way. The Illusive Man wasn't above sacrificing a less intelligent puppet for the head guaranteeing Cerberus's goals being carried on.

He sacrificed far more for far less.

In this possible situation, Saracino became the sacrificial pawn to lead the galaxy into a false sense of security, spreading the belief the traitorous dogs were put down for good.

While they celebrated, the third head separated from their shared body, hiding itself in the shadows where it could recover and grow to become a powerful force once more. Perhaps it would recruit two new heads, taking on the Illusive Man's role as the mysterious figurehead, once more assuring a continuation of Cerberus's survival through the millennium.

Her past partnership to Cerberus invested Miranda in becoming a guardian against their tainted ideals.

In the immediate aftermath of the Terra Firma incident, she voiced her theory on another Cerberus leader to Ghost and Liara. She didn't want to bother Shepard with it until she gathered further Intel confirming or denying her theory; Shepard didn't need to focus on anything except Kasumi and their shared peace.

Besides, for all they knew the third head wasn't even in the Sol System. It could be somewhere beyond the Relays, already in the process of recovering. Or it might not even exist. There was too much uncertainty around her theory at the present moment.

Another theory given by Liara was the third head leaving the Milky Way entirely. Before the Reapers arrived there had been an initiative gathering together anyone crazy enough to cross from the Milky Way to the Andromeda galaxy. Some eccentric billionaire's idea to travel six hundred years away from every known alien species, fauna and planet.

A clean-slate.

It was the perfect setup. As everyone else focused on how to make Andromeda survivable, the new Cerberus could forge their power beyond that of which it could reach in the Milky Way's political scene.

_I wouldn't doubt it as a possibility_.

She hadn't listened much to any of the news regarding the Andromeda Initiative, being far too busy outrunning assassins, following her father's secrets and preparing for the inevitable Reaper War. However it sounded like an investment Cerberus might aid for the preservation of humanity, if nothing else.

Still, they couldn't hold onto the hope the final head departed from the Milky Way and was on a six hundred year journey they wouldn't ever hear from again. The worst they could do was accept blissful ignorance when Cerberus could still be a legitimate threat.

Ghost and Liara agreed, though there was only so much they could do until the Relays and comm lines were fixed. Liara's network was in shambles at the moment and the N7 Talons could only do so much in the Sol System.

Miranda followed-up on nearly everything she needed to after the Terra Firma incident. There was one thing in particular she couldn't keep avoiding, however.

"_Clearly you were a mistake."_

Heartless words from a heartless bitch. Excuses and rationalizations for crossing lines of that kind came easier to her past self than hacking into Krogan communications.

Jack had targeted her, after all, with her confrontational attitude and her attempt to biotically throw furniture at her. It was just her bad attitude and hatred swelling to its boiling point; of course she tried to prove dominance like some kind of primitive ape. That was Jack's childish ways. Someone needed to stand up to her and put her back in her place.

_We're always the heroes of our own stories, aren't we?_ Miranda's lips twisted in a disgusted frown.

Those pathetic rationalizations reeked of everything she despised about past self. She had believed herself the epitome of perfection. The blueprint for the kind of strength, intelligence and beauty humanity stood for.

Jack wasn't. The coarse woman was a combustion engine in a museum of renewable energy. She was the antithesis to everything Miranda had been created to be. If Miranda was to be considered the perfection of humanity personified—the very definition of order—then Jack would be the imperfections of humanity—the very definition of chaos.

Only, despite her father's greatest attempts, Miranda wasn't perfect. Her flaws were only hidden from outsider's eyes by the body crafted to distract them. One look beyond the superficial layers revealed her personal flaws in intimate detail.

Guilt gnawed at her heart, biting Varren sized chunks out of it every time she remembered calling Jack a mistake. How many times had her father called _her_ a mistake? She hadn't been perfect enough for him. She was just another failure. Another flawed experiment to learn from to create the perfect dynasty.

"_You think you are the first? Don't be ridiculous. You were just the first I kept, and still you proved to be a failure."_

Miranda still carried the burden of those scars with her. And yet, when she wanted to sneer and cut down Jack, the word came out so bloody naturally. Her father would be proud if she hadn't been such a failure.

Sighing, Miranda shut the water to her shower off and stared somberly at the polished brownish-tan marble walls. Water dripped off her flawless pale skin and soaked, slicked back raven locks, pattering onto the dull marble floor.

The warmth of the water and heat generated were replaced by a dastardly chill gliding across her skin like cubes of ice. Miranda hugged her arms across her body and puckered her lips in a frown. She hated the cold. Ironic for an ice-hearted bitch.

Her resolve to apologize hadn't changed one bit; she was still determined to do so, but the courage required to say it continued to fall out of reach. Apologies weren't natural for her. The words _I'm sorry_ were as alien to her as the ancient Quarian language.

It took her an exceedingly ridiculous amount of time to tell Shepard how much she regretted wanting to strip her free will from her and that was with one of the most forgiving and compassionate people she knew.

Jack and Miranda both struggled with forgiveness and apologies. What if bringing this up suddenly snapped Jack awake from this lovely dream they shared in?

The raven-haired woman scrunched her brow and shut her eyes. _We've…we've really become attached since the end of the war, haven't we?_

The answer was obvious.

They acknowledged it with every kiss they shared, regardless of if being tender or teasing; a quick peck as they worked or a long, passionate one, damn whatever else is going on.

They acknowledged it through their cherished banter neither intended to ever stop.

They acknowledged this budding intimate relationship as they laid together, quietly savoring the unfamiliar warmth of not only having someone who wanted to be there for the right reasons, but also the warmth in their hearts that escaped them through the years.

Miranda didn't want to lose it.

Most would simply tuck away the dreadful reminder of their cruelty into the depths of their memories; bury it under so much rubble, no recovery team could ever stumble upon it.

In the past, she wouldn't have hesitated to take the cowardly route. She couldn't do it anymore. Those venomous words she injected into Jack laid dormant in her system, a sleeper cell awaiting the day to return to the light. She couldn't rightfully allow them to become closer without addressing it.

Her father's consistent degrading language and abuse haunted her to the present day. The innate desire for perfection she held to and other of her many personal failings were the result of the venom he injected into her.

She struggled to move past it, and was working hard every day to do it, but it left her asking: How would her venom affect Jack in the long-term?

Their relationship wasn't a monotonous, emotionless void wasting their time. Miranda relished spending time together in a way no other fling ever provided. Their relationship was a source of comfort and happiness, not a source of stress and negativity draining the life out of her.

When they were together, she felt at ease, as if she could let her guard down and simply _be_ without thinking about work or other problems.

But she couldn't continue to look herself in the mirror if she didn't apologize. Even if Jack didn't remember it, she did. It felt like she was having an affair behind her back, yet Jack knew and was simply pretending everything was okay.

Miranda slid the shower door open to be greeted by cutting cold air. She quickly grabbed her towel and dried herself off.

Stepping out onto the shower mat once she was mostly dry, she hung the towel from her shoulders and sauntered across the cold tile to the counter-top to finish the final stages of her morning routine. She exited the bathroom dressed in black jeans and a scoop-neck navy-blue long sleeve shirt, still bare foot.

Today she and Jack were both without responsibilities of any kind. Should all go well with her apology, the plan to spend the day together, alone, without interruptions or work would remain their set course. Miranda put the thought of failure from her mind.

As she waited for Jack to arrive she busied herself tiding up the already tidy room, doing little things that didn't really need to be done. Sitting and waiting seemed unproductive. Nerves also kept her moving.

Eventually the chime of the doorbell called her away from the busy work meant to settle her nerves to greet the source of them.

The hydraulic doors hissed open. Miranda leaned casually on the edge of the wall, smirking in amusement and crossing her arms over her chest as she met Jack's eyes. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy my company more than you let on."

Jack rolled her eyes, the hint of a smirk lifting her scarred lip. "Remind me: Which one of us chose not to go home to their sister so they could crawl into bed with me?"

Miranda nodded. "Fair play. I walked myself into that one."

"Quite marvelously," Jack parroted humorously. "So, you gonna invite me in or are we gonna stand here and shoot our mouths off until you inevitably lose again?"

"Inevitably? Quite the presumption, as it as such a large word for your usual four lettered dictionary," Miranda reengaged, her pride unwilling to accept defeat just yet. "Has Kahlee Sanders required you to read a dictionary to increase the depth of your vocabulary? Or did you purchase it yourself with the credits of your swear jar."

"Yeah, totally not falling for that bait." Jack strode forward, stole a quick kiss and continued on into the room. "Your sister here?" she asked as she kicked her boots off and set them off out of the way.

Miranda recovered from her disappointment of losing and for the kiss being far too quick to be a kiss. More of a peck to stun her and end her comeback before it began.

_And I let it. Well played, Jack. Well played._

"She left an hour ago and will be gone until the evening," she answered as she shut and locked the door. Which left them here. Alone. Together. Just as they planned.

Except Miranda had no plans, no preparations or any idea of what to do. It hadn't seemed so bad last night when she accepted. But now she felt unsure of herself, nervous this could turn into a disaster.

God, she was actually nervous about having no plan to rely on. How sad was that?

"If you'd like to stay in, we can order food, or something." Her confident voice rattled with nerves. What did normal people even do on day offs? What might Jack enjoy doing? Miranda tried to quickly think up a strategy on her way towards the kitchen. "Or we can go out, walk around, stop at the casino to gamble or— mmpph!"

Jack, who intercepted Miranda's path as she rambled off nervous ideas, silenced her by gently tugging her into a kiss. The sudden interruption widened her eyes and tensed the raven-haired woman's muscles.

Slowly, as her brain switched off fight-or-flight mode and started to read the sensory input reports coming in, every ounce of tension melted from her tightened muscles. The feel of Jack's lips pressing against hers, her left hand gliding up the center of her back while her right warmly cupped her cheek, it was wonderful.

"Mmm," she hummed in pleasure into the kiss.

"No plans, remember?" Jack asked quietly as their lips parted. "We'll figure it out as we go. Point of a day off is just to relax and do whatever we want, whenever we want for as long as we like. No work. No interruptions. No bullshit. Just us. Got it?"

It sounded too simple, but she supposed that was the point. Today they didn't need to concern their thoughts with work or the future. Today was their day off from the responsibilities they rarely took time away from. And they were here. Alone. Together. Just as they planned.

"I can work with that," Miranda agreed.

"Good."

Jack's hands moved to her hips and guided her back towards the kitchen counter-top. Miranda allowed herself to relinquish control over the situation to the tattooed woman, smiling as she ran her hands across the studs and leather of her jacket, locking them behind her neck.

Their movements halted briefly for Jack to lift her up onto the counter-top; her tattooed hands lightly pressed against her knees and guided them apart, stepping between the dangling limbs to be closer. Slowly, their foreheads gently rested against one another, their eyes shutting as they breathed in the cozy closeness of being alone together.

Miranda moved her hands to Jack's sides, gliding her palms across the uncovered areas of warm, tattooed flesh. They wound behind her back, memorizing the toned muscles, marking every scar as a landmark in her path as well as restricted areas still covered by the revealing outfit, all to imprint a mental map of Jack's body into her mind.

She wanted to learn every scar, every muscle, the lines of her tattoos so she could trace them all by memory without fail.

That was later, though. She wrapped her arms around Jack's waist to simultaneously scoot herself and pull the tattooed woman's body closer together. Tattooed hands softly trailed up and down her jean covered thighs, never encroaching on areas she had yet to be given permission to explore.

This soft intimacy, it was unexplored territory for both of them. No one associated them with softness, with tender touches or romantic endeavors. _They_ didn't even associate themselves with these traits. How could they when solitude was all they knew?

Romance and intimacy weren't known to them. Miranda's experiences weren't memorable in the slightest.

Never had they tantalized her or given her the goosebumps currently forming underneath her clothing. They didn't do anything except divert her time and thoughts momentarily in a slight diversion, nor had her experiences ever made her _want_ to do more than go through the mechanical motions. Here she tried, and likely stumbled, to be intimately connected in mind, body and spirit.

With Jack, vulnerability and affection weren't nearly as hard, perhaps because the tattooed woman tried so hard to make this work, allowing in these tender moments for herself to be fearless in her affection and vulnerability.

Their lips met again, deeply, intimately, naturally. No plans. No work. No interruptions. No bullshit, as Jack said. Yes, Miranda could work with this.

In fact, the stirrings of her body, mind and heart were fully prepared to tell Jack to pick her up and bring her to the bed. They could continue this in a far more private and comfortable setting, and perhaps, if they were ready, they could wrinkle the sheets of her neatly made bed.

Miranda felt no shame in desiring it. Sex was perfectly natural to desire from a partner you were physically, emotionally and mentally attracted to. However, there was something she needed to say. To do.

"Jack." The attempt to get her attention came out more like a pleased groan than an interruption.

Jack still stopped. "Something wrong?"

"No. I just…" Miranda sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She had really been enjoying that. Still… "There's something important I need to say."

"Whatever it is, I'll listen."

Again she came to this situation without a plan or a carefully crafted apology. It frightened her. What if she chose her words wrong? Where did she even start? Did she just blurt it out like an awkward teenager? Or did she start at the beginning and work towards the apology?

Miranda didn't have time to think it over. Everything came pouring out without thought. "I need to apologize for something I called you. When we fought on the Normandy…" she trailed off.

Nerves? Pride? Fear? Miranda couldn't pinpoint the cause without a microscope.

"Miranda—"

"Please," Miranda interrupted, raising a hand to stop her. "Just…please, let me say this." The softness of her voice and falling eyes stopped Jack. "I called you a mistake. It was wrong. _I_ was wrong. That word, my father used to use it against me whenever I failed to meet his impossible standards.

"As you know, I wasn't born naturally. My father crafted me in a lab. In a way, Grunt and I aren't so different from one another. We were both created to be the perfection of our race and kept because our creators believed we weren't like the other failures before.

"I don't know how many others came before me, but my father was so certain I was _the one_—the perfect dynasty he strove so hard for and sacrificed countless other lives to reach. But I wasn't. I…"

Miranda squeezed her eyes shut, afraid of the painful words she couldn't escape. "I'm barren, Jack."

Two words that had shaken her to her core when she learned. Two words that caused Jack's fingers to suddenly tense against her thighs.

"You can't have a dynasty when your creation can't make heirs. And because of that, I was a mistake. I was a failure." She shook her head. "But not Oriana. She can and will have the normal life I never could. Family. Kids."

Miranda took a deep, shaky breath then opened her eyes, though she couldn't bear to meet Jack's. She looked at the floor in the corner of her eyes. "I…I'm ashamed I called you that. After everything my father ever said to me, everything he ever did, I can't believe I would stoop so low to call another person that—call _you_ that. Even if we butted heads, I had no right to sneer down at you like…like he did to me. I'm sorry."

Neither spoke immediately. The previous peace they were sharing in fractured by crushing silence and tensed bodies.

Finally, Jack spoke. "I don't accept your apology."

Those words cut deep, simple as they were. But Miranda nodded her head absently. She couldn't blame her. At least they were addressing this now. It gave her years to put it behind her and focus solely on work, Oriana and the team.

"I understand."

"No, you really fucking don't." Jack's hand gently gripped her chin and forced her to stare right into those fiery brown eyes; eyes which didn't glower at her or burn into her soul for daring to ask forgiveness. They were warmer, heartening. "I don't forgive you because _you_ haven't done wrong by me."

"Jack, how can you even—"

"Shut up, Princess. I heard you out, now you fucking listen to me. Got it?" Miranda nodded silently at the command. "Yeah you called me a mistake. Yeah it fucking pissed me off and made me hate you even more. But that was the old you. The ice cold bitch. The Cerberus Cheerleader who didn't give a shit about anything or anyone except her sister.

"You can tell me you're the same person all fucking day long, but the fact is you're not that same bitch. You've changed for the better, and I'm not saying that because we've been kissing and sleeping in the same bed lately. Shepard changed you. Hell, she changed me. Because of her we were able to square away our pasts and let people in.

"You remember what I said to you after the Terra Firma shit went down? When you about punched Shepard's punching bag down to Earth? My past will always be a part of me, it's how I got here today," she shook her head, "but I refuse to be chained by it for the rest of my life. I want to be seen as I am today, the person I became when I finally got my priorities straight.

"For a long time we've let our past dictate our present and future. We don't have to let it anymore. We can put it behind us and find our own normal, our own peace. And when we have it, we'll fight to defend it together."

She was saying _we_ and _our_…and those personal words passed on a profound feeling to Miranda she could feel the strength and warmth of in her heart.

"I told you what I see when I look at you. It hasn't changed," Jack stated firmly, eyes staring directly into hers. "You're not defined by that single moment, Miranda. And your fucking piece of shit father doesn't define you either. Fuck him. Fuck perfection. We'll be imperfect and give this galaxy the finger if they can't handle it."

She placed her hands on her hips. "So no, I don't accept your apology. And while you're at it, stop apologizing for stupid things. It's starting to irritate me."

The raven-haired woman stared openly in awe at her tattooed counterpart. Eventually it broke for a soft chuckle. Her body slouched forward, arms crossing and resting on her thighs as she stared at the carpet floor of the living room, lips tugging into a humble smile.

"Me and my stupid brain?"

"Hey, you said it, not me."

Miranda hummed a laugh and nodded. "That I did. I suppose I've met my match today." She lifted her ice blue eyes up to meet the brown orbs staring at her and smiled in gratitude. "Jack, thank you. I truly appreciate you and these profound words you continue to share with me."

Reaching forward, she wrapped her pointer and middle finger around Jack's. Jack reciprocated the action, allowing her other hand to return to her thigh. "You've become quite important to me."

"Likewise, Miranda. I've got your back."

"And I have yours."

The heartfelt promise came out effortlessly, the words used to bind it far too simple to reveal every nook and cranny of what went unspoken. Miranda had been prepared to take a verbal lashing from Jack, was willing to bear her back to her and let the whip crack her skin until she was painted by crimson red blood and the slightest twitch of a muscle sent searing pain through her pain receptors.

Instead she was scolded like a child, and rightly so, because Jack could see far clearer than she could. She could see Miranda was still struggling to let go of the past. She could see the scars her father left behind and the mistakes she made chaining her down, preventing her from moving forward.

Jack could see the heavy chains because she had been weighed down by them, too. But unlike her, Miranda kept running. It was all she knew how to do. She ran from her father, from Cerberus, she even tried to run away from Shepard—one of the most positive influences on her life.

The N7 helped her plant her feet, to stay this time and see how things turned out, but she never quite severed herself from the ball and chain attached to her ankle.

Not until Jack set her free.

"Anything else you want to talk about?" Jack asked.

"No."

"Good, I'm tired of standing here. Bedroom or couch?"

The answer came without hesitation. "Bedroom."

Privacy, security and the promise of possibilities waited for them there.

"Works for me."

Jack hoisted her up without bothering to ask, unsurprisingly, and carried the raven-haired woman to the bedroom. Miranda gladly held onto her, a pleasant and relaxed smile playing at her lips.

After shutting the door behind them, Jack hobbled her way across the plush mattress on her knees, setting down her passenger at the center. She pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead. "You and this stupid brain of yours," she whispered.

Miranda hummed a laugh, resting the palms of her hands on Jack's tattooed belly, gliding them slowly, tenderly, to the exposed warm skin of her sides. She tilted her head back and smiled up into the chocolate eyes that once festered with hatred when they bore down on her, but now brightened and gazed upon her with the intimacy of a romantic partner.

_Because we are romantic partners._

"Kiss me."

The request earned her a charming little grin from Jack before she obliged. Their lips met again in an intimate meld to make an Asari envious of.

It started slow and passionate, Miranda hands caressing exposed tattooed skin and across the cloth of Jack's top, Jack's gentle tattooed hands resting lightly on her shoulders, occasionally caressing and cupping her cheeks or entangling themselves in the waterfall of raven locks.

The tempo increased, though not nearly as much as the carnal passion raising the temperatures of their bodies. Miranda wasn't sure whose tongue brushed against the other's lips first; had she been the one desperate for more or had it been Jack?

It didn't matter, she supposed, as she could recall vividly the harmonious dance they engaged in, and that was far more satisfying to be caught in.

They slowed down, kisses halting as foreheads rested together and noses lightly brushed against one another, both women breathing in the moment.

Tattooed hands glided down her biceps and back up her shoulders as chocolate eyes remained shut as nervous, shuddered breaths left them. They were in unfamiliar territory. Both of them were adults, experienced in varied sexual exploits they either enjoyed or had chosen to forget. But the difference between those past, emotionless exploits and _this_ were as vast as the DNA of Turian's and humans.

Both women wondered the same question: _Am I even capable of…making love?_ Because that's what they wanted. They didn't want mechanical, going through the motions sex. They didn't want to simply blow off steam and move on with their day.

No, this wasn't an emotionless outlet for stress relief. There were emotions tying them together. Trust and respect shared in a way no other partner gained.

Miranda trailed her hands lightly up Jack's sides, underneath her jacket and to her shoulders to guide the leather item off her shoulders. Jack shrugged it off and tossed it to the floor without looking.

Her hands returned to Miranda's shoulders and gently laid her back, bracing her weight on her hands as she shifted her body into a more comfortable position for them both. Taking a card out of the tattooed woman's book, she gripped Jack's wrists and removed them from the mattress, causing her body to lie flush against her own.

The disorientation lasted but a moment before she readjusted and pressed her scarred lips against Miranda's again. Her tattooed hand glided across her bent left leg, up her outer calf and thigh then back down again. With her other hand she intertwined their fingers and pinned it above their heads. Miranda smiled into the kiss as she wrapped her left leg around Jack's lower back.

The tattooed woman left her lips to kiss at the pulse point of her neck. Miranda hummed contentedly, her chest compressing on the exhale as Jack kissed her exposed collarbone and across the expanse of pale skin revealed by her scoop-neck long sleeve.

She had no plan. She wasn't in control here. And yet Miranda, the woman who lived and breathed by a schedule, didn't have the slightest care in the galaxy. She was free and safe, and most importantly, they were here together.

Leaving her chest behind, Jack's chocolate eyes, full of fiery lust and touching affection, ensnared her field of vision again. The tip of her nose brushed teasingly along the bridge of Miranda's before she drew the very tip of her moist and warm tongue along the lines of her lips.

Any complaint failed to surface when the tease wasn't prolonged beyond the torturous seconds.

Their entwined fingers relinquished their hold on one another. Jack shifted to brace her weight on her left side, simultaneously running her right hand up the back of Miranda's covered thigh to grope her, in Jack's fond words, bubbly butt.

Shifting with her, Miranda curled that same leg tighter around the tattooed body. Her hands moved to cup her cheeks, lips kissing Jack deeply, affectionately, lustfully, vulnerably; everything she could never give to another person until this coarse, incorrigible, thoughtful, mature and caring woman cautiously opened her arms to her.

Jack returned her deep affection, lust and vulnerability with her own. It was their way. When one gave, the other gave just as much, if not more. Everyone they had ever been with took without giving.

This time it would be different. Everything would be, but not because it was their turn to take without giving. It would be different, the way they always wanted it to be, because they chose to change from their pasts.

This time they would do this the right way, letting down the walls guarding the hearts that were tattooed by past scars, shoving away the impossible standards and excuses for true, genuine, raw intimacy.

Because this time they were safe, in the arms of a person they could trust to not turn away and stab an omni-blade through their back when they weren't looking.

Neither needed to ask if the end result they were heading towards was wanted. They knew there was no hesitation left. This was another natural progression of their relationship.

"Jack?" Miranda groaned.

"Yeah?"

"Get me out of these bloody clothes."

She _needed_ to feel those tattooed hands on her bare skin, unrestricted by these ridiculous layers she wouldn't have worn had they planned to wrinkle her bed sheets together.

Jack snickered at the aroused demand, grinning that stupidly charming grin again. "Impatient, Miranda?" She pressed a quick kiss to her lips to silence her retort. "You don't need to ask me twice. Sit up."

She did, pulling at the hem of her long sleeve to try to rid herself of it quickly. Jack stopped her hands, pushing them away to do it herself, slowly, tantalizingly slow. The palms of her hands glided up her abdomen, guiding the shirt up to her bra before helping her tug it the rest of the way off to discard it to the floor.

Again she tried to move to her jeans quickly, but Jack stopped her, taking her hands into her own and kissing one palm. "You." She kissed the other palm. "Need to slow down."

She leaned in but didn't meet her lips, resting her forehead on Miranda's as her tattooed hands glided up her still covered thighs.

_Stupid jeans._

"Trust me," she whispered. "I understand everything you're feeling right now. I feel the same jitters, the same need to get out of these fucking clothes and just _be_ with you. And those jitters I bet will get crazier for us. Everything we've shared so far…it's unlike anything I've ever felt and done before, Miranda."

"Me too," Miranda admitted quietly, tracing her fingertips up Jack's abdomen. "One step at a time?"

"Exactly. We've got the entire day off. Let's take our time and forget about everything outside of this room. Let's just…be, Miranda. You and me."

"Mm. And you say you can't be romantic." Miranda cut off her retort this time with a kiss of her own. "You've convinced me. No plans. No distractions. Just us. Correct?"

Jack grinned and kissed her. "Damn right. Now lie back."

Pushing her playfully onto her back, Jack reengaged her lips briefly before working her way down her torso. Her lips glided across her flawless skin, pressing kisses here and there as her hands glided up her bare stomach.

Every instinct told her to lay her head back and shut her eyes, but she ignored it. Far more satisfaction was gained in watching Jack progress her way down her body one kiss at a time.

She kissed each breast, teasing them shortly with exploring fingers, causing a thrum of excitement and arousal to spark in Miranda. Then an internalized curse when she continued down her belly to her waist without returning.

Damn it, she didn't even want the pants off now. She just wanted Jack's lips back on hers and her hands wherever she damn well wanted them, so long as they were touching her.

Jack undid the button and zipper, slowly pulling them down just enough to reveal the top of her underwear so she could place a kiss on her waist. Another thrum of exhilarating arousal she hadn't ever felt before shot through her body, but she was left on a silent promise of _later_.

The jeans too were discarded to the floor. Jack remained on her knees, hands roaming over every inch of the bent and bare legs she kneeled between. Miranda, in nothing but her fashionable and comfortable underwear, placed her hands on tattooed hips and leaned forward to kiss her stomach.

Along her ribs, down closer to her waist, Miranda's lips and tongue danced over the tattooed flesh.

A single finger drew up her own stomach, between her cleavage, up her neck to her chin, lifting it to meet the scarred lips in a slow kiss. The entire series of actions left goosebumps on her skin. No one ever gave her these pleasant goosebumps.

Her back met the mattress again, but their kissing temporarily stopped as Jack took in every part of the almost nude body underneath her. One of her tattooed hands guided her left leg back around her body, gliding over it with her palm, fingertips and lightly with her nails.

Her chocolate eyes returned to meet her icy blue orbs as they breathed pleasantly and savored this closeness they never experienced before. The eyes stared at her for a long moment before she spoke in a quiet and affectionate voice. "You really are stunning, you know that?"

She didn't say that while looking at her nearly fully exposed chest, or at any expanse of skin below it. Jack looked her directly in the eyes, into the very core of her person.

Miranda cupped her cheek and smiled gratefully. "No one's ever told me that and meant it the way you do. Thank you." She pressed a feather light kiss on her scarred lips then spoke again, "I…I wish I had said that first. Now anything I will say won't sound as meaningful."

Jack nudged her nose with her own. "Try me."

"Fishing for compliments?"

"Stalling out of nerves?"

"Heh. Caught me."

Miranda took a deep breath. Well, she did have something she had been meaning to say. No time like the present.

"The galaxy might brand me as perfection, as the beauty humans should aspire to, but I believe it's you they should aspire to be. You turned the terrible things this galaxy threw at you into a strength. You grew from it, matured in a way others wouldn't have believed possible. You stopped running long before I did. You found strength in your individuality. Your imperfections became your uniqueness.

"Everything about you," she traced the tattoo on her skull, "from these intricate tattoos, to your scars, to your grin and unique sense of humor." Her hand returned to her cheek and her thumb caressed close to her eye, "And most of all, these eyes of yours that can see through me and only now reveal to me everything I failed to see in the past, are truly beautiful."

Awe flickered in Jack's eyes at the compliment. "That was…that wasn't meaningless, Miranda. I…No one has ever…Shit, now my words sound stupid."

Miranda kissed her lightly and smiled. "No, they don't. You said plenty even without speaking."

No other words were needed. Gradually they resumed their rhythm, synching up as they would with a biotic combo in their tender kisses that provoked hums, sighs and groans of pleasure. Their gentle caresses across nude skin that tantalized and made their skin tingle with electricity. Their gestures of affection that unthawed the frozen places their hearts were once surrounded by.

Neither hastened their pace. They took their time, hands and lips exploring and learning their romantic partner's body, unhurried in their discoveries of ticklish spots, scars and curves.

Jack's ponytail was the next to go. Miranda couldn't resist. She liked seeing the tattooed woman with her hair down and enjoyed entangling her fingers in the dark strands. The latter enjoyment served to keep Jack's lips from leaving hers, deepening their most recent lip lock and earning her a satisfied groan from the tattooed woman.

Soon they laid in the bed together, almost every single piece of clothing discarded and scattered across the carpet floor surrounding her bed, all save their final pieces of underwear.

They were getting there. Far too lost in the tangle of their nearly nude bodies, the electric sensations of their hands tracing strong, tattooed legs and gliding across pale curves. Lost to titillating soft lips and warm tongues dancing together or erotically teasing breasts.

Eventually their final pieces of clothing barriers were discarded as well. Together they tried their best to do what they had never done before: make love. And together they figured it out, one step at a time.

When evening came and Oriana returned, she found Jack and Miranda sitting together on the couch, fully clothed, her sister between the tattooed woman's legs, cuddling sweetly as they watched some movie they didn't really know or care about. They just looked happy to be there together.

And they were. Because despite the odds, despite their pasts chaining them down for so long, despite their imperfections, they found their unique normal.

* * *

_Review Response to xbraxbreakerx: Thank you! Hope you enjoyed the new entry!_


	23. Chapter 23: Busted

Chapter 23

Busted

Many long days had passed since the end of the Reaper War.

The fate of their civilizations future balanced precariously on the edge of an omni-blade; one wrong move politically, one moment where the old bad blood resurfaced and shit would hit the fan at FTL speeds, splattering over everything and everyone. And there'd be nowhere to run or hide for anyone.

Since the nightmarish war reached its epic conclusion, priority one was repairing the Relay while other repairs were made to increase survivability, quality of life and keep the peace between the species stuck within the Sol System.

Without the Relay, reconnecting the galaxy within the next decade was just a shitty pipe dream they had no hope of accomplishing, and without those other repairs they'd end up tearing each other apart instead of lifting each other up.

In short, the Reapers _really_ fucked their shit up. It might have all seemed hopeless to even try to repair the ancient Relays they had taken advantage of for so long; it wasn't like anyone went out of their way to create new Relays.

Shit, they didn't even know what the Keepers on the Citadel were for until Shepard uncovered the whole Reaper threat. Now they had to figure out how to repair one of the most advanced technologies that bound galactic civilizations together?

They had better luck finding Prothean porn stashed in the Mars Archives.

How hopeless the situation seemed didn't matter. Defeating the Reapers had _seemed _impossible. Peace between the Quarians and Geth had _seemed_ impossible. A cure for the Genophage and diplomatic relations with the Krogan had _seemed_ impossible.

Surprise, they weren't. Funny what imminent death and an ass-kicking Girl Scout could do.

The Relay was just another impossibility to complete, another problem to join together and use every ounce of self-preservation to fix. And it finally reached completion.

After the arduous days of post-war repairs, after the shared fears of the population destroying itself, they did it.

The Relay was repaired. Priority: Galaxy Repairs could finally begin.

The name of the mission didn't _pop_ or anything. It carried the same inspired excitement of a ryncol drunk Elcor reciting _Hamlet_ in a monotone drone.

Then again, Jack found that Old English shit wrist slitting levels of boring even in human speech. Adding Elcor actors to _Hamlet_ was like asking to watch paint dry while a Volus accountant explained the complexities of galactic tax law.

_At least Blasto vids are funny because of how fucking ridiculous they are._

Anyway, the true thrill carried by the population of the Sol System, stupid name be damned, was real—tangible. It was shared by everyone from Jack and the Normandy team to the everyday civilian.

People buzzed more than a hive of bees in a flurry of disturbed rage when they learned of the official repair. The confirmation they desperately needed transformed their hopes into reality.

Their mission to reconnect the galaxy and reunite people with loved ones beyond the Relays wasn't a far-fetched dream anymore. It could be done. They could fix what was broken, patch the wounds up and get back on their feet—scarred but alive.

_We can finally unfuck this situation_.

It wouldn't be simple. Fixing the Relay didn't suddenly roll out a red carpet for them to strut on. It didn't banish the possibility of stepping on their ridiculous gown, ripping it and sending them face first into the ground, busting their nose open on top of leaving their ass to hang out in the wind.

Anyone who believed this victory meant smooth sailing from here to the Terminus Systems and back lived in a fairy-tale. This was a huge step towards the future, Jack wasn't denying that fact. Fixing one of the ancient Relays provided a blueprint on how to fix the others, and the more Relays they fixed, the more hands they could put towards fixing the galaxy.

But this huge step didn't fix the destruction they were going to run into—the destruction the Sol System itself still was recovering from. Entire cities were laid waste to. A lot of people were dead from leaders who held people together to loved ones that couldn't be replaced.

Many of the foundations and structures that kept the galactic community running smoothly were left in shambles.

They weren't even sure the Relay wouldn't kill them yet. The plan was to send a probe through soon, and if it didn't end up destroyed or ripped to shreds _then_ they would send people through.

_It's like we're those original humans who went through the Relay years ago_, Jack thought, resting her head back against her office chair. _This shit is crazy._

Unknowns waited for them beyond the Relay. Not of unknown alien species, but unknown situations in every system they reached. Unknowns of if a probe test result would match up when a real frigate went through to the other side. Unknowns regarding what the people beyond the Relay were doing without leadership figures.

Was it chaos? Had they banded together like the Sol System? No one could say with certainty. No one wanted to believe that beyond the Relay their own people were killing each other for scraps of food or water, or to assert power to live like kings and queens.

Not wanting to believe and knowing it was a possibility were two separate situations, though.

Worst case scenario: To maintain peace and keep proper leadership in charge, more people might have to die. It'd be easy to brand them all as evil terrorists or pirates or slavers or whatever, but Jack knew better. There'd be people once well-respected who did the unthinkable or performed heinous acts to maintain control of a deteriorating situation.

That was worst case scenario, though; a scenario based off a possibility with no evidence or confirmation yet.

_One step at a time._

First they had to get through the Relay. Then they could worry about who needed a boot up their ass.

Jack couldn't deny the nerves the thought of going through the Relay gave her, especially knowing she was going to be on one of those ships instead of safely on the Citadel with her kids.

Fighting Reapers—fighting anyone for that matter—didn't bother her. She could fight back against a physical enemy, but she couldn't fight against a Relay any more than she could breathe in the vacuum of space. Which left her fucking nervous.

This was probably how Jon Grissom and those other people felt when they launched through the Relay for the first time. Everyone liked to tell stories of how they were brave pioneers, but they were probably scared shitless. Jittery, praying to whatever gods they believed in or just simply hoping the Relay wouldn't chew them up and spit them out.

Jack felt the jitters. Even after the probe launch, the first ships to go through were essentially being pat on the back, only they were standing on the edge of a cliff and the pat was a shove. And no one had any idea if there was safety equipment attached.

The news of her temporary leave from Grissom Academy blindsided her. She had been on her way to inform Shepard about the Armax Arsenal Arena match Miranda set up for tomorrow when Kahlee called.

The idea for the match came about the day Miranda snuck into bed with her in the apartment.

Jack had spent that afternoon giving Shepard new ink on her left wrist. The tattoo itself was simple and meaningful; a red rose and stem laid horizontally along her wrist, right below the palm of her hand. Within the top petal she wrote in her neatest cursive writing, which she worked hard to do perfectly, _Kasumi_ and on the bottom petal was _Goto_. Along the stem itself was further black cursive writing reading _I'm yours, forever._

The dentist bill to rid her of the cavities put Jack in debt.

As she tattooed Shepard, however, the redhead read mail from her inbox; none of it was Jack's business, and most of it was no doubt boring Alliance reports. But when she noticed Shepard's eyes watering and her face twisting in sorrow, she had to ask.

One message came from Kolyat Krios, who forwarded a message Thane left behind before his death.

Jack didn't prod for every detail; Shepard had been with Thane as he died, as she had been with Mordin and Legion in their final moments of sacrifice. The wounds hadn't healed. The loss was still fresh for the team, especially for Shepard.

The letter from Kolyat inspired Shepard to bring more attention to finding the cure for Kepral Syndrome. There wasn't much they personally could do. They weren't scientists. But Shepard had done matches at the Armax Arsenal Arena after the Clone business for charities, and in doing so used her status to bring more awareness to them, which led to increased donations.

That was before she became the full-fledged hero of the galaxy. With her status now doing a charity match for the cure for Kepral Syndrome could keep it at the front of everyone's minds, and bring in more charitable donations for the research.

In honor of Thane, who went out kicking ass, it was only right that they kicked Kepral Syndromes ass in return.

Before she could get to Shepard, Kahlee called about an urgent meeting. Worried Prangley or one of her other students had done something stupid and got hurt, Jack hurried back after asking Kasumi to pass her original message about their fight tomorrow.

It hadn't been about the kids. Well, it was, but not them directly.

"_If the probe launch goes through without a hitch then the Normandy and Shepard will be sent through to help the repair teams, and as a beacon of hope. As you know, Grissom Academy isn't in a functional state right now. The kids are working hard to fix and solve problems or use their biotic power to clear debris, but we're down in manpower, and in the current climate normal lessons and tests aren't a priority."_

"_All right? What are you getting at Kahlee?"_

"_I want you to join Commander Shepard with the recovery effort, at least until we're able to buckle down our problems and reopen Grissom Academy."_

"_Wait, what? What about the kids? You just said we're down in manpower. Sending me out there isn't exactly helping that problem."_

"_I know, but your talents are needed elsewhere right now, Jack. You have incredible biotic strength others need beyond the Relay. You can do a lot of good out there."_

Jack shut her eyes and blew air out her nostrils roughly. It wasn't like she didn't want to join Shepard's team again. The Normandy was the first real place she could call home, and the guys on board were like a family to her. And knowing Shepard, some big, fun fight she could brag about to the kids was bound to happen. The redhead attracted trouble like an Asari Matriarch attracted suitors.

But her little squirts were a family to her too. She couldn't abandon them during the war because of how dangerous it was, or risk some dumb marine misusing them or treating them as expendable.

With Kahlee here and in control Jack didn't have to worry about that. Kahlee was just as protective as her over the kids, and the tattooed woman could see the logic of sending her out with Shepard. Her history on the team and her biotics could be a difference maker in fights and debris clean-up beyond the Relay.

Squatting around here, watching over the kids and filing reports as she waited for Grissom Academy to get back on its feet didn't help the overall status of the galaxy.

This wasn't a permanent goodbye either. Kahlee wasn't politely giving her the boot and telling her to never come back, offering some half-assed best of luck as she explained how the war made her a necessary means to an end, nothing more.

Kahlee wanted her back, and she could still keep in contact with the kids when long distance comms got better or when they returned to the Citadel for supplies.

She just…felt really torn about leaving.

Jack rested her left boot on the edge of the desk in her makeshift office and laid her left forearm across it. As she sat there, frowning, brooding over the situation, the hydraulic doors whished open. Jack perked up at the sight of Miranda but didn't lower her arm or leg.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hard at work I see," Miranda quipped.

"Bite me, Princess" she fired back without flinching, the corner of her scarred lips lifting.

Miranda strutted in confidently. When didn't she? She always carried herself with the confident air of someone who didn't suffer fools. Gliding the tips of her fingers lightly along the top of the desk, she rounded the bulky furniture towards the tattooed woman.

Jack watched her the entire way, admiring the woman she cared for; the icy blue eyes she was entranced by; the inquisitive and gentle fingers gliding across a surface she wished was her skin; her curvaceous body.

"Jack, you're staring."

"Yep," she replied without breaking her gaze. "And I'd do more than stare if the kids weren't here. A lot more."

Miranda hummed lightly then leaned down to press a kiss on her lips. "Careful," she whispered on parting, hooking her pointer and middle finger around Jack's, "I might take you up on that—teenagers or not."

A crooked grin split Jack's lips. "Don't tempt me, Princess. I'll make this kinky little fantasy of yours a reality if you do," she whispered back.

Miranda's mask of confidence faltered, icy blue eyes flicking away as the slightest hint of a blush tinted her porcelain pale cheeks. "That would be…highly inappropriate and unprofessional of us."

"Kind of the point, Princess," she drawled.

Miranda settled against the desk without relinquishing her fingers. They knew it was just playful teases, all part of their little game; a game which Jack proudly won the round of.

Besides, Jack didn't care if it was inappropriate. She'd tackle Miranda to the floor and straddle her in a fervent kiss in front of her students without a care in the galaxy, and she'd enjoy every second of it.

Her students were teenagers in puberty who didn't know shit about kissing anyways. Kissing Miranda in front of them would teach them a valuable lesson in how to kiss someone like a lover instead of a family member. It'd be a lesson their significant others later in life—and therapists—could thank her for.

"Kahlee talked to you too, huh?" Jack asked after a comfortable silence.

Miranda nodded. "Yes. I'll be reassigned to the Normandy as well." She smiled. "Someone has to keep you and Shepard from embracing your most reckless impulses."

"Your sister going to be okay?" Jack asked.

"I believe she will be. It's not as if we won't contact one another or see each other again. The amount of repairs we'll run into will lead the Normandy back to the Citadel time and time again, especially in the first months. By the time repairs reach further across the Milky Way, comms will certainly be more reliable at long ranges.

"And, quite frankly, I have every ounce of confidence in my sister's ability to take care of herself. I'll still have her check in with Jacob every day, but I'm not too worried." Miranda looked thoughtfully at Jack. "How about you? Are you going to be okay?"

"…It sucks, but yeah," Jack said. "Kahlee and the other staff will keep the kids safe. And I get why I need to join Shepard. I can do a lot more good out there than I can sitting on my ass in this office. The galaxy needs as many helping hands as it can get right now."

Jack shrugged. "I'm going to miss the little squirts, but I'll tough through it. Like you said, it's not like this is goodbye or anything. I'll check in on them every time we return and whip their asses back into shape if they've gotten lazy."

No use brooding or complaining about it any further. She wasn't about to turn into an angst ridden teenager, moaning and groaning about this like she couldn't ever see her students again.

Kahlee was making the right call by sending them back out with Shepard. Out there she could help out a lot. Jack accepted the responsibility and would keep moving forward until Grissom Academy was back on its feet.

"It's not all bad," Jack continued. "The Normandy is the first place I've ever felt at home. I have a lot of good memories on that ship, and I intend to make more. Plus we're bound to find some shitstorm to fix. It'll be fun to cut loose and destroy whoever the hell gets in our way." She lightly squeezed Miranda's fingers. "Got you around to watch my back too. That's enough to keep me happy."

"Mm. Agreed," Miranda smiled, squeezing her fingers back.

Silence fell between them. They sat in the small, makeshift office space, warm fingers curled together in the cool recycled air as their thoughts journeyed from port to port in search of nothing in particular.

Work, their relationship and the future came to mind, but they did not fret. They did not allow a vindictive bartender to lace their drinks with anxiety and poisonous doubt.

Over the many long days since the end of the war, Miranda and Jack both had their fill of anxiety, doubt and fears. Together they found a way forward, even when it seemed impossible. Together they'd figure it out again.

The future could be uncertain all it wanted to be. What mattered was living in the present, savoring moments like these instead of spending their lives searching for them without ever seeing how they were always in their grasps.

"_Support and love her with all of your heart. Do not miss a single moment."_

"_Be selfish. Live, love, find your peace. In this life, for soldiers such as us, there is but one opportunity to do so. Do not let it pass you by."_

Ria's wise words hadn't left her—wouldn't leave her. Everyone alive today had existed before, but how many _lived_? How many loved? How many moments of peace passed them by because they were always looking too far ahead to see what was right in front of them? How many were too afraid of failure and rejection to ever chase a dream or live the life they wanted?

_I'm not going to miss a single moment_, Jack decided.

She looked to Miranda, took in how her raven tresses draped over her shoulders, traced along the lines of her cheekbones and lips; watched her chest rise and fall with even breaths as her eyes gazed thoughtfully at the blank wall ahead of her as if it was a masterpiece artwork Kasumi stole.

Jack lowered her leg and stood up. With one sweep of her arms across the table, every data-pad and miscellaneous object she never used clattered and crashed to the floor. The action woke Miranda from her stupor but Jack didn't give her time to question anything. She lifted her up onto the desk and met her lips in a kiss.

"Jack, what if one of your students—"

"It'll be fine. Doors locked."

"They could hear us."

Jack grinned cheekily. "Guess we'll have to be quiet then."

Miranda rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible."

And yet her hands removed Jack's jacket, incorrigible as she was. Nor could she hide her smile as they moved further onto the table or her schoolgirl giggle as Jack pushed playfully onto her back and straddled her.

Leaning over her, she kissed Miranda's lips, feeling her fingers glide inquisitively up her tattooed abdomen, sides, back and chest, cupping and teasing her confined breasts.

A throaty hum of approval left Jack. As wonderful, titillating and toe curling as their love making had been, they didn't exactly have the time for that here and now. They'd have to be a bit quicker, and Miranda was already ten steps ahead of her; a sign she realized when one hand left her breast to unbutton and unzip her pants. Jack grinned and lightly nibbled on Miranda's bottom lip.

"Ahem!"

The clearing throat stopped the pair abruptly. Jack merely groaned in agitation and sat up without removing herself from Miranda. Her chocolate eyes looked to the opened door where Kahlee Sanders stood, arms crossed and an amused smirk on her lips.

"Kind of busy, Kahlee," Jack said dryly.

"I can see that," Kahlee responded, smirk still in place. If anything, it was even more amused than before.

Miranda sat up on her elbows, a frown creasing her lips and a blush on her face, but she didn't avert her gaze in embarrassment or pretend what was seen was anything less than what it was. All three of them were adults; they knew full well what was about to happen—and what might still happen.

"Jack, Miranda, while there are no regulations against relationships between staff or teachers, if you're going to have sex on campus, do it when the children are asleep or secure the door better. And try to keep it down. The entire building heard the crash of your data-pads."

Jack tilted her head in confusion. "You're not pissed?"

Kahlee snorted and smiled knowingly. "Hardly. I'd be a hypocrite if I was." She waved them off and turned around. "Sorry to disturb you. And remember what I said, Jack, if you plan to continue. Better locks and lower volume."

The door sealed shut and Miranda immediately opened her omni-tool. "Well, that was…not what I was expecting."

"Yeah, you said it."

Jack didn't know if she was more stunned by being busted by Kahlee or learning the middle-aged woman had had sex on campus before. Those thoughts quickly were ejected out the airlock of her mind and into the closest sun.

"How secure is the door locked this time?"

"It'd take Kasumi five to ten minutes to get in."

"So unbreakable to everyone else. Got it."

No one heard a peep from their room for some time. When they finally emerged, Jack's hair was free of the ponytail she didn't feel like putting back in and Miranda bore a red bite mark at the crook of her neck. Otherwise she appeared as she always did, smooth and cool without the slightest inclinations of anything being wrong.

The students weren't sure why their tattooed teacher was grinning from ear to ear after her meeting with Ms. Lawson, or why Ms. Sanders could only shake her head at them, smirking meaningfully. But they were teenagers, and Rodriguez swore she saw them holding hands, so…

Either way, the students were happy for their teacher, Kahlee was happy for Jack finding someone, and Jack and Miranda were _very_ pleased after their important meeting.

* * *

"Jack, may I ask you a personal question?"

"Isn't that kinda what we've been doing?"

"Well, yes. I suppose this one felt more personal than the others."

"Mm. Told you already to ask anything you wanted. You don't need to ask permission anymore. Definitely after what you shared with me."

Miranda hummed in appreciation. It'd be easy to assume Jack meant what they shared when they wrinkled her sheets. While everything about it did deepen their connection, the raven-haired woman knew Jack was not referring to sex.

She meant what came before, when Miranda admitted one of her greatest secrets and burdens—the source of her father calling her a failed experiment.

The pair lay together in her bed, relaxed and close together, though not cuddling quite yet. The pristine white sheet rested at their waist, one tattooed leg fully exposed from waist to foot, bent up to point her knee to the ceiling while the other hid beneath the sheet.

Jack laid flat on her back, eyes shut more often than not in tranquility. She kept one hand behind her head and the other often changed positions, sometimes lying on her stomach, sporadically scratching an itch on her torso or face. Other times, when her eyes opened, she reached over to cup Miranda's cheek before a kiss or to caress a part of her body; cheeks, arm, side, belly, chest—it felt wonderful regardless of location.

Miranda sat up on an elbow, turned to face Jack as her free hand glided like a feather across the expanse of exposed tattooed skin in dim light. Across her abdomen, up her exposed thigh, down her calf, back up and down the leg to her bare chest and then her arm. It did not happen quickly, this little pattern she had; the total amount of tattoos left her examining every region she touched thoroughly.

Unlike Jack, she kept both legs beneath the sheet and her upper body remained covered by her chemise. No sexual act had taken place, not yet anyways. After the spontaneous moment at the Academy, Miranda couldn't ever doubt the possibility of Jack or herself suddenly shifting from peaceful company to carnal lust or romantic love making.

The reason for Jack's lack of top came down two factors: She did not wear a bra and Miranda stripped her out of her top prior to them lying down. However she did wear underwear, so it wasn't as if she were completely nude.

_Not yet, anyways._

A possible promise for later. Maybe.

The pair, after plenty of affectionate kisses and gentle touches, had merely taken this alone time to learn more about one another. Likes, hates, life experiences, simple and complex subjects they either didn't know at all, or had only the barest of knowledge on; any subject was approachable, and neither showed unwillingness to open up just that little more.

Thus led to Miranda's next question.

"Why did you get so many tattoos?"

"It depends on the tattoo," Jack answered, voice softer. She shrugged slightly. "You know me, sometimes I do something just for the hell of it, because why the fuck not? Others are personal to me; a reminder to never forget an experience, a person or something that really deeply affected me. Those are special, always will be. Some, though, are just to cover up the scars Teltin or other events in my life left on me."

She could feel those. Scar tissue from major wounds had a different feel than normal skin. Depending on the severity of the scar, it could feel abnormally smooth compared to the skin around it, specifically because normal human skin did not regenerate hair follicles or sweat glands.

There were more scars than people realized.

Miranda paused her fingers in their tracing of her tattooed thigh. "It doesn't make you uncomfortable for me to touch them, does it?"

She could see Jack's eyes roll even with her eyelids shut. "Nah, it doesn't. If it did I'd have told you to stop. Feels good. Relaxes me, honestly."

"Mm." Miranda gently drew the tips of her fingers up to her knee, then agonizingly slow down her inner thigh, nails lightly dragging across the flesh. She broke off at the waistband of her underwear, keeping the same speed as she trailed along above it, dipping down once but never going far enough.

"Now you're just being a fucking tease," Jack growled.

"Hmhm," Miranda hummed a laugh. "Consider it payback for the bite on my neck."

"Hey, you already got your damn payback when you engraved your nails into my skull," Jack disputed.

Miranda fought a bashful smile unsuccessfully. "That was unintentional, and partially your fault."

_For it feeling so good._

"Me biting you was _your_ fault!"

"I fail to see how I'm to blame for the bite."

Her fingers traveled up her abdomen.

"Had to stay quiet, didn't I?" she responded as if it was obvious.

Her eyes opened to glare as the pale fingers traced _very_ thoroughly across her chest.

Miranda smiled in satisfaction. "Again, I fail to see how I'm to blame for the bite. You're the one who initiated the entire event."

"One: Don't call it an event. Sounds fucking stupid. Two: You _loved_ every fucking moment of what we did. Bite included, so don't act like you didn't."

"Never said I didn't." Nor would she. "But I am still confused as to what brought it on. I've considered the possibility that my words started it, but it didn't feel like it was you capitalizing on flirtation."

No, even though it was quick in comparison to their love making, it hadn't felt like pointless or emotionless sex. It hadn't felt like they were fulfilling some fantasy either.

"Miranda, I swear, if you don't get your hand somewhere neutral right now, I'm going to ignore your question and the fact your sister lives here…" Miranda obliged easily, gliding her fingers across her collarbone and to the intricate tattoos along her free arm. The action earned her a dissatisfied groan. "What was your stupid question?"

"What brought on us having sex at the Academy? A spontaneous decision or something more?"

Jack shut her eyes. "Does it matter?"

No, but that answer indicated a deeper reason. "I suppose it doesn't," Miranda answered. "It felt like more than spontaneous sex for the sake of sex, not that I would disapprove if it had been. As you said, I enjoyed it thoroughly."

"Yeah, your nails made that clear," Jack drawled.

"I'm sorry. I didn—"

"Don't apologize for stupid things. I was just giving you shit. You didn't actually hurt me." Well, that was a relief. "…You're right. It wasn't just sex for the sake of sex. It wasn't just me saying 'fuck it' to get us off in my office to decompress or anything. I refuse to use you as some sort of outlet."

A touching sentiment. One that inspired Miranda to use the hand previously tracing tattoos to cup Jack's cheek and kiss her tenderly.

"I appreciate your honesty. I feel the same," she whispered against her lips.

"Good." Miranda resumed her previous position and picked up where she left off on the back of Jack's hand. "Anyway, remember when I told you about meeting up with Justicar Ria's team again on the job?"

"I do."

"She said something to Shepard and Kasumi that really stuck with me. 'Live, love, find your peace,' is what she told Shepard. And to not let the single chance there might be to follow her heart to pass her by. Told Kasumi to, 'Support and love her with all of your heart. Do not miss a single moment.'"

Profound words from the Justicar, though not unexpected. Samara, too, had shared quite the array of wisdom since she first joined the Normandy team.

"I don't know what the future is gonna hold. We don't even know if the damn Relay will tear apart that probe. I've always been someone to live in the moment anyways, but…"

Jack opened her eyes, sat up onto her elbows and looked Miranda in her eyes. "I'm not going miss a single moment I have with you. Damn Reapers nearly killed us all. Life's too damn short and fragile not to savor every present moment we have with the people we care about."

Miranda smiled. "Well said."

And so mature and thoughtful of her. It was the best way to approach their relationship, and any relationship really whether it was a friendship or a family member.

"I don't know, feels fucking cheesy to say." Jack lowered her eyes to her chest, examined the flawless pale expanse of cleavage. "You've really got fantastic tits, you know that?"

Miranda laughed. Jack's clear attempt to wash her mouth out of sweetness with what had once been a spontaneous, and embarrassing, compliment for her was nothing short of amusing.

"Yes," she grinned, "you've told me before. And you're staring, again."

"Yep."

"You're incorrigible."

Jack lifted her eyes up, smirking. "And you love it."

True. She did.

"It's one of your charms, I suppose," she pretended to admit reluctantly.

Jack turned onto her side and scooted closer, forehead to forehead and almost chest to chest. Her free foot kicked the sheet down in the process, revealing their hidden legs to the cool air.

The tattooed woman placed a gentle hand on her bare thigh, gliding it up onto her chemise covered hip and behind her back.

"Your eyes are better than your tits," Jack said.

The gentleness was back. The warmth in her chocolate eyes soothed Miranda, the closeness she had come to appreciate stealing away her sarcasm and witty remarks.

Their lips met again. Bare legs slowly entangled with each other, warm bodies pressing together.

Soon their heads returned to pillows, lips and bodies not leaving one another.

Eventually they found sleep with Jack's back pressed against Miranda's chest, her arm wrapped around the tattooed woman and fingers entwined.

Both smiled in peace.


	24. Chapter 24: Home

Chapter 24

Home

"Jack, get ready to detonate those huddled up troopers!" Shepard ordered.

"Ready when you are, Girl Scout."

Channeling her biotics, a hue of dark blue swirled to life around Jack's body, coating her in an aura of immense power. Biotics primed and ready. Now it was Shepard's turn.

From her position she watched Shepard lob a pair of Lift grenades at their targets—a group of Cerberus troopers huddled behind a low wall of cover. The grenades clunked heavily on the metallic floor in-between the soldiers then—in an explosion of shimmering blue—detonated; once contained biotics, now set free, ensnared their enemies within an inescapable, intangible prison that suspended them helplessly in the air.

Startled wails escaped their lips. It was all they could do now.

"Time to die!" The air rippled on the battlefield, popping with every Shockwave that cascaded towards her suspended targets. Every _pop_ spelt their doom. Like hearing a heavy footed monster close in one step at a time in a black room, the troopers could only squeeze their eyes shut and clench their butt cheeks as inevitability closed in one step at a time.

The collision of her Shockwave and the biotic field was nothing short of spectacular—not that Jack expected anything less from herself. A massive, bone shaking biotic explosion detonated on impact, annihilating the poor suckers caught in their cross-hairs.

The vanquished foes bodies faded into code before vanishing completely. But this wasn't a time to strip into something revealing, head to the club, feel the thunder of the bass in your body and grind your ass against an Asari. These simulations weren't going to give them a pity fuck. The battle had to be fought to the very end. Only then could they claim full domination.

Jack prepared another biotic attack, the hue like an ocean wave churning around her arm. She stood up out of cover and reached her hand out in front of her towards the three shield wielding Cerberus shit-for-brains ahead of her, yanking their precious little shields right out of their weak grip.

Shields discarded, she took a step back, biotics coiling around her ankles, and launched up into the air, over her cover with her M-11 Wraith in hand. The shotgun roared. Rounds expelled from the belly of the beast and tore into the stumbling fools before her feet ever touched the ground again.

Jack landed and kept her momentum, rolling across the ground and back into a dash for cover.

These chumps didn't even stand a chance.

Jack, grinning from ear to ear in unrivaled thrill, ducked back behind her new wall of protection to eject her thermal clip. Killing simulated Cerberus was only second to killing the real thing; sprinkle in their little team reunion of her, Shepard and Miranda, the super elite's option, enhanced shields and damage for their enemies and this had turned into a goddamn party.

Who needed alcohol, red sand or club music when you could inhale the scent of discharged weapons, crush Cerberus bastards and team up with the baddest Girl Scout in the Milky Way while popping the Cheerleader's biotics like popping a virgin's cherry?

Between the Atlas stomping around on the Classic Armax Map and the tough simulated Cerberus assholes trying to put them in the ground, the trio of biotics had their hands full putting the boot to these enemies in the name of Kepral Syndrome awareness. So far, though, it was turning out to be more entertaining than Jack thought it'd be.

What could she say? You could try to stick her in an Alliance uniform, get her to act a little more professionally on the job, but you couldn't take the badass survivor out of her. Jack loved a good fight—bonus points for their enemies being Cerberus. And boy had everyone and their damn grandma come to see this ass-kicking fiesta.

The Triple A people hadn't been shy about announcing Shepard's return to the arena. Everyone wanted to see the legend in action, possibly even get an autograph or take pictures when all was said and done.

_"Hell, Shepard, you may even have people confessing their love for you,"_ Jack had teased the woman as they were preparing for the fight.

Her friend's fair complexion paled to be almost as porcelain white as Miranda's at the thought.

"…_I can't wait to be back on the safety of the Normandy."_

_"Commander Shepard's greatest weakness wasn't Reapers, or Cerberus or even reporters; it was her own celebrity and fans. When faced by them, she could not find her courage to stand tall,"_ Miranda narrated cheekily. _"Good thing the Reapers and the Illusive Man didn't know. Who knows where we'd be if they indoctrinated people to beg you for autographs, pictures or for you to take them to bed."_

_ "If she had a groupie fan club we'd probably be dead,"_ Jack jested, slapping Shepard in her armored shoulder as she passed by.

_"Not funny,"_ Shepard deadpanned.

_"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Shepard. I'm sure you'll only get a handful of erotic gifts,"_ Miranda didn't relent. _"Some might even be worth keeping, for yours and Kasumi's private life, of course. Who knows, you may even wish to invite a fan or two to join you. According to Kasumi your bed and heart are quite large enough to enjoy more than one lover."_

Jack bit back a laugh, remembering in full clarity Shepard's stunned and embarrassed expression. Mouth hung agape, eyes wider than Salarians, the color returning to her cheeks in a fantastic red to match her hair.

Oh, speechless and defenseless Shepard, what a sight it was to behold!

Jack lowered her shotgun and equipped her pistol in her free hand. Rounds peppered her cover and at the floor adjacent to her. Someone was out to kill her, and a red laser coming from the opposite side of the battlefield gave her a pretty good idea who. A Nemesis bitch set on putting her down.

After a single breath the tattooed biotic dashed out from safety, moving from cover to cover, firing off rounds at the Dragoon solider and the Centurion supporting his advance on her position.

Her rounds knocked the Centurion's shields down. Another round whizzed right past his helmet; his body reacted as any solider would, head flinching away from the sound of death whistling by before ducking back behind cover as a few more rounds sprayed his cover. Dragoon's didn't use shields, but they were backed up by heavy armor that kept most rounds from penetrating to their flesh. Unfortunately, none of Jack's rounds broke past his armor.

The dash advanced her position closer to them and out of range of the Nemesis, who had apparently gone out of her way to take down Jack's barrier. Bitch.

From the corner of her eye she noticed Miranda shifting positions as well, getting a better vantage point to handle the Nemesis while keeping the Atlas gun consistently blocked by cover.

Jack holstered her pistol, dashed again towards a waist high wall of cover—a location where the Centurion had just moved to hide. Her barrier dropped again; the damn Dragoon's sub-machine gun sprayed rounds in triplets with hardly a breath between them, and the closer he got the greater his accuracy became.

No other choice, Jack dropped into a slide. The hard, metallic flooring _definitely_ bruised her ass, but a bruised ass was better than getting shot—even if this was only a simulation with concussion rounds instead of real bullets.

Fluidly, and roughly, she sprang back onto her feet at the waist high wall of cover, reached over and forcefully pulled the Centurion over the cover to her side.

The slam of his armored back on the ground dazed him. The last thing he saw was a tattooed woman surrounded by an aura of blue, arcing tendrils of power twisting and lashing over her. Then her fist full of biotics slammed straight into his head.

Had he been more than a simulation, she'd have caved his head in. Lucky for him he was just a simulation who wouldn't have to suffer. Standing up out of cover, shimmering beneath a badass blue aura, Jack snatched the Dragoon off his feet with little trouble, a frightening and nasty grin on her face.

She took the helpless foe and slammed him with deadly force against the nearby wall like a biotiball. His body rag-dolled and vanished.

"Miri, up high!" Shepard shouted.

"Got it!"

Jack scouted the area in search of further bugs to squish, but found only the Atlas and the soon-to-be dead Nemesis remaining. Overall, they had done some damn good work, and a quick glance to the scoreboard revealed these last two kills would land them at the max score possible: nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine points.

Miranda deployed an Overload technique, the electrical attack discharging on the Nemesis's shields and shooting a high-voltage electrical current rampant through their body. Three rounds pierced its head a moment later and ended the snipers life.

One final enemy to go.

"Time to take down the big bitch!" Jack said, unable to control her excitement.

Fighting had been her normal for so long. To come back to it in such a dramatic fashion _without_ her friends' lives in danger or in critical condition pumped her body full of adrenaline and whatever other internal positive shit it could.

Jack and Shepard remained on the lower part of the battlefield with the Atlas, though they weren't within arms distance. More than a few skycar pile-up lengths separated them. Miranda took the high ground, a tactically superior position she could flank from.

As a team they unleashed their all-out assault on the Atlas; Jack fired off her shotgun and biotic attacks, Miranda used the rapid fire of her Locust sub-machine gun and a mixture of biotic and tech attacks with their Commander Sentinel running the show.

The greatest flaw of the Atlas was its inability to switch between targets quickly. Due to all the armor plating it sacrificed mobility for defense, allowing a team of three professional ass-kickers to attack it from three different sides.

No matter which one of them was targeted, the two others could safely open fire without any ground troops to stop them.

"All right, I've got a plan to take this final Atlas down," Shepard started. The N7 popped out of cover to unload a few rounds from her Paladin then moved quickly back into cover when the Atlas targeted a missile on her. The missile blasted her cover but did no damage to Shepard.

"I'm going to toss my last Lift grenade at him. It should knock him off balance. Jack, I want you to hit it with your strongest Shockwave on my go. Miri the same goes for you, but you and I are going to use a Warp."

Jack laughed heartily. For three powerful biotics to combine their attacks only had one result. "That's going to create one big fucking explosion, Girl Scout. I love it."

This was gonna be an illustrious end to a damn fun match.

"You're just looking forward to detonating Miri's biotic's, aren't you?" came Shepard's cheeky response.

"I knew she was going to say that," Miranda groaned from her cover.

"Prude."

"I am not a prude," the former Cerberus operative retorted defensively.

"As I say Miri, proof of non-prudyness comes from a public display of affection. Until you prove me wrong, you will always be my favorite prude."

"Prudyness is not a word, Shepard."

"Prude." Shepard, she could tell, was struggling to keep her laughter contained, especially when Miranda sighed in disbelief.

Jack rolled her eyes. For all her intelligence, Miranda could be an idiot when it came to banter. The best way for them to have gotten through Shepard's comeback was not to snap at the sweet bait she dangled right in front of them like a pit fighting Varren.

Some battles weren't winnable against Shepard. When it came to teasing them about their "sexual tension," winning wasn't possible.

Besides, Shepard wasn't entirely wrong. Detonating Miranda's biotics didn't exactly turn her on or become some battlefield kink of hers. It didn't make her want to strip Miranda out of the catsuit she had donned again for combat and give these people a real show, while simultaneously getting banned from ever returning to the Arena.

Using biotics in the bedroom, however, was a different story altogether. Something about floating above a bed, the tingles of biotics rolling across her skin, Miranda's pale skin illuminated in the darkness by the iridescent blue aura around their bodies…

_Damn, what a night we had_, Jack grinned.

Bedroom antics aside, Jack _did_ want to see a big explosion, and that meant detonating Shepard's and Miranda's biotics. So really, this was about to be a _ménage à trois_ of destruction.

Pointing out such may earn Shepard's embarrassed silence, especially if she were to explain how Shepard's own orders put her as the dominant member of this explosive threesome, but Jack firmly believed it wouldn't end well for her.

Shepard was probably ready for it, locked and loaded with a comeback to win this banter definitively.

"Give it a rest, Cheerleader. You keep setting yourself up for the same shit every time you open that perfect mouth of yours," Jack scolded, hoping to nip it at the bud. She immediately cringed when she heard her own words, but Shepard retaliated fast.

"You would know about it being perfect," Shepard snickered.

_If you only knew…_ Jack puckered her lips in a frown. She really walked herself into that one.

"Can we just get on with this?" Miranda sounded exasperated.

"Okay, ready?" Shepard asked.

"Ready."

"Waiting on you, Girl Scout," Jack replied.

Without further banter, the redhead leaned out of her cover and tossed the grenade, hitting the Atlas directly. As expected, the biotic explosion of the grenade knocked the hulking machine off balance, which in turn left the pilot too disoriented to get his gun aimed at any of them.

Jack and Miranda were already waiting, their biotic auras swirling about them, waiting for the command to unleash their full power on the opponent. Shepard became shrouded in a similar aura.

"Now!" she ordered.

On her order they each attacked. Miranda's and Shepard's Warps were the first to impact on the Atlas. Jack's teeth tingled as their Warps alone created a biotic explosion worthy of commendation.

Before the detonation could fade from their attack, Jack's powerful Shockwave cascaded right into the hulking mass, and with it an even larger biotic explosion reverberated through the arena. Massive blue auras exploded one after another like fireworks during New Year celebrations on Earth.

The energy formed by all of their attacks was powerful, and the telltale signs of an imminent explosion from the Atlas signaled all three women to take cover.

The invisible shockwave from the explosive combination roared through the ground, hammering into the bodies of the three women within the arena and making the safety glass from where their audience watched vibrate.

Jack stood up, an impressed expression on her face as she looked at the empty battlefield and simulated fireworks around the scoreboard for their top score.

"Damn, that was powerful," she commented. She hefted her shotgun up and rested it on her jacket covered shoulder, grinning at Shepard and Miranda as they joined her. "Blowing up Cerberus shit just never gets old."

"I admit, it's a bit therapeutic after everything the Illusive Man did," Miranda agreed.

"Aw, you two are bonding over blowing stuff up. It's so _cute_," Shepard teased.

She received two eye rolls in return, neither woman falling for the bait this time.

They exited the arena via the elevator they used to enter it, returning them to the bottom floor of the arena where none of the spectators had access. Good thing too, because it was damn loud up there, full of excited chatter and cheers, some of which carried Shepard's name.

The holographic terminal to select the next match waited for Shepard, who would be joined by Kasumi sooner rather than later for their scheduled match—or date, really.

The trio came to a halt at the terminal. Adjacent to their position was the stairs leading back up to the main floor of the arena.

Jack turned around to face Shepard, a smirk on her lips. "Thanks for the fun, Shepard. That was a pretty kick ass match."

Shepard smiled. "Oh you know me, Jack. I like blowing up stuff just as much as the next space Girl Scout."

"Almost felt like the old days," Miranda mused, allowing herself to smile.

"Just like old times as Garrus would say."

True, in a way it did feel like the old days. But there were some major differences now compared to back then. For starters they had been fighting a lot more mercenaries in colored armor and Collectors back during the Suicide Mission, not Cerberus.

Cerberus people still died, but they never shot them personally. Their own stupid experiments killed them more often than not.

The greatest difference, however, came down to Miranda and Jack personally. Shepard had always been Shepard, always would be too. Kindhearted. Patient. A paragon of everything good this galaxy could create. Cavity levels of sickening sweetness.

Shepard hadn't change because she knew who she was and who she wasn't better than most people. She had her priorities straight, her moral code well-defined and a damn good heart.

Most selfless person Jack had ever met.

But Miranda and Jack, they had changed so much since those days. And they were still growing, still learning, still doing their best to move forward out from the shadows of their past towards a better future.

Shepard helped set them on the path towards their personal growth. Jack made peace with her past, incinerated the heavy chains Teltin kept on her by nuking the whole place. Miranda had Shepard's help when she first tried to rescue her sister; she was convinced by the kindhearted woman to go introduce herself so she could be a part of her sister's life instead of a shadow in it.

The redhead helped them in a way no one else ever had, and she didn't ask for anything in return. She didn't come around holding a receipt to refund the time and resources she expended to help them, demanding they return the favor.

She offered help with no strings attached, and because of that strings of friendship and trust and loyalty attached themselves naturally.

Beyond their personal issues, Shepard played a pivotal role in getting the pair to move away from despising one another's existence to a friendlier relationship—a friendlier relationship that turned into an intimate one. She encouraged their friendship, even if it came with teasing about sexual tension, and when the war ended it had been her precarious status that brought them together.

Together they did their best to keep the team united. To keep hope alive. And when in private, together they shared their fears and found understanding and comfort.

It had been Shepard's encouragement and support after she woke up that moved Jack to finally address the feelings that had been so strange to her at the time. Feelings she no longer felt were strange, but instead were full of pleasant warmth she never felt before.

"For the most part at least," Shepard added on, shrugging slightly at wherever her thoughts had taken her.

"Some things have changed," Miranda agreed, nodding once.

Shepard shot a smirk at Miranda. "Except you being a prude."

Jack chuckled at the N7's comment. She really wasn't letting up on that today, but to be honest it was funny to see Miranda get irritated.

Miranda threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm not a bloody prude!"

_You're making it too easy for her_, Jack thought, shaking her head.

"As I've said countless time, Miri, until you prove me otherwise you will always be my favorite prude."

"Oh for the love of— fine!"

_Fine?_

In the corner of her eye Jack noticed Miranda turn to face her, but it was the sudden grab of her jacket that spun her then pulled her forward that caught her by surprise. Or that was the case until she felt Miranda's lips press against hers, then and only then did she feel the lightning bolt of shock strike her.

Her body tensed up for the briefest moment, eyes wider than Saturn's rings. Her heart shot into her throat. Panicked and irrational thoughts zipped through her mind. Miranda was kissing her. In front of Shepard. Was that okay? They kept this to themselves since it started, and now…

_Ah, fuck it_.

Jack snapped back to life and wrapped her arms around Miranda's neck, deepening the kiss, grinning inwardly. This wasn't exactly how she expected to tell Shepard, but fuck it. It got the message out there and meant they didn't have to pretend they weren't in a relationship anymore.

Plus the spontaneity of it all turned her on, so it all worked out for the best.

They finally parted and noticed Shepard rubbing the back of her neck in equal parts confusion and bashfulness.

"Well, that's one way to prove it," Jack said a bit breathlessly, smiling as she did. Miranda offered a light smile in return and a wink.

Oh, this was _so_ not the end of this.

"So uh— how long have you two been…together?" Shepard asked awkwardly.

Miranda stepped closer to Jack and intertwined one of their hands, finally able to close the distance as they naturally wanted to do.

"A little while after our talk in the elevator," Jack answered. Shepard gave a small nod of understanding, though she appeared confused still. "I guess what you said helped."

_Thank you_ went unspoken, but not unnoticed.

"How did this all come about? I mean, I had to stop you from 'smearing the walls' with each other." Shepard provided air quotes.

"That's a story for another day, Shepard," Miranda said.

A long story they'd tell her one day, when Shepard wasn't busy and neither of them were aroused.

"That isn't cryptic at all," she mumbled. "I'll hold you to that promise, Miri."

"You're looking for a sappy romance story on us, aren't you Girl Scout?" Jack received a bashful grin from the N7. She allowed her lips to turn up in an amused smirk, head shaking at the woman. "Kasumi really has corrupted you."

"You say that likes it's a bad thing," a voice piped in. The trio looked to the stairway simultaneously, none hearing or sensing the fourth presence arrive moments ago.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed along the bottom of her ribs, wielding a mischievous smirk on her lips, was Kasumi Goto. Her eyes shone brighter than most stars with mirth beneath the shadow of her armored hood. Shepard's N7 tags hung around her neck, the silver of the tags and classic armor gleaming in the artificial lighting above her.

"Sorry to drop in, I hadn't expected to find you like this. But I should thank you two."

Jack cocked an eyebrow up in morbid curiosity. Thank them? That couldn't be good.

"Dare I ask you why?" Miranda questioned, stealing the words from Jack's mouth.

"Shepard and I had a bet going about you two since the Suicide Mission and we continued to up the ante until the end of the war."

Even more intrigued by the same cautious and morbid curiosity, Jack asked: "What was the bet?"

She'd probably regret asking, but she couldn't _not_ ask when Shepard began to slowly shrink in defeat. The dread of the armored woman was palpable.

"At first I bet five hundred credits you two were hiding sexual tension for one another," Kasumi explained with enthusiasm, as if letting them in on a big secret. "She didn't think you were, at first. Then around the time we met during the war I bet another five hundred that by the end of the war you two would blow off some of that tension."

Shepard exhaled a deep, resigned sigh of defeat, fully deflating in an equally comical and sympathy creating manner.

"And at the party I said I would watch a vid of her choosing regardless of how ridiculously sappy it happens to be, as long as it wasn't _Fleet and Flotilla_."

Ah. _Ahhh_. The searchlight had illuminated the cat burglar for everyone to see their identity. Jack's sympathy for Shepard multiplied exponentially at the news.

Kasumi's love for sappy romance stories, whether written or vid based, was known to every Normandy team member. Not only had she lost credits, but Shepard was going to have to sit through something akin to hell.

"Don't forget the last part of our bet." Kasumi winked at Shepard, and the Girl Scout blushed deeply. That sight alone meant there were…more intimate parts of this bet no amount of morbid curiosity could get Jack to ask after.

"It's funny. The expiration date on that bet was only a few days away, Shep," Kasumi mused, her amusement displayed better than Miranda's bubbly butt and fantastic tits. "To think you were this close," she brought up her index finger and thumb with a minimal distance between them, "from winning the bet."

"I'll forward you the credits later," she muttered.

_Ouch._ Miranda really spoiled the bet for Shepard this time with her little kiss. Jack might have felt bad if she wasn't dying of laughter inside.

"So what sounds better, Shep: _Vaenia, With Genericized Holiday Spirit, _or _The 840-Year-Old-Virigin_?"

Another defeated sigh escaped Shepard. "Do I have to pick now?" Her lover nodded. "Which is shorter?" she asked jokingly.

"Oh, they're all about two hours long actually."

Jack choked back a laugh. Okay, _now_ she felt bad. Two hours of a corny romance vid was the worst torture imaginable.

"Are any of them really strange or cringe worthy?" Shepard asked, clearly searching for a good option among extremely corny flicks.

Her thief brought her hand to her chin in thought. "_With Genericized Holiday Spirit_ can be a bit slow at points, and I think the other two have one or two cringe worthy moments."

Shepard digested the news with a defeated frown. "Which would you prefer?" she asked after a length of silence.

When Kasumi smiled, Jack saw the downright sadistic nature behind it. She didn't even know Kasumi could smile like that. _What did you get yourself into with this bet, Shepard?_

Jack didn't actually want to know.

"_Vaenia_ works for me."

"Just try to keep it down you two. I'd rather not hear you two going at it like two Elcors," Jack teased.

Both Miranda and Shepard blanched at the image placed into their minds by Jack. But then Kasumi took it to a whole 'nother level. A wonderfully cruel and hilarious level.

"Sexually satisfied: yes right there. That's the spot," Kasumi said in a monotone voice befitting of the Elcor.

Jack lost all control of her laughter. _Nice one, Kasumi!_ She couldn't get the words out, but she tried to give the thief a nod of approval even as she cackled.

What made it all the better was Miranda nearly turning greener than a Drell, her nose scrunching and lips curling in absolute disgust at the image in her mind. Shepard tried to smile, but she too struggled _not_ to imagine the scene her thief provided dialogue to, furthering the sickly feeling.

Jack released Miranda's hand as she bent over, clutching at her sides against the stitches of pain hitting her. She reached her hand out to give the thief a high-five, which Kasumi gave her in return while chuckling to herself.

Kasumi really was a treasure.

"Ugh…I'm never going to get that image out of my mind," Miranda groaned, sounding a bit sickly.

Jack regained control of her laughter, wiping the tears from her eyes as little laughs bubbled out of her.

_That's it. Kasumi is officially an evil genius._

Kasumi smiled victoriously. "If you ask Jack nicely I'm sure she'll give you a distraction," she teased.

Jack grinned evilly. "Yeah, Princess." She leaned closer to the woman's ear. "Ask me nicely," she whispered.

Miranda, still caught off guard by the situation at hand, blushed visibly. "Don't encourage her," she warned.

"Oh fine," Kasumi pouted, crossing her arms over her chest again. "But when you wake up screaming in the middle of the night because you saw two Elcors going at it wildly, don't blame me. I gave you an out."

Again Jack felt her laughter bubble to the surface at the look of disgust on Miranda's face. "You're unbelievable," she replied with a shake of her head.

"Am not."

Instead of taking the bait, Miranda wisely rolled her eyes. "Right. You two should set up your match before they assume you canceled."

"Good point," Kasumi agreed, sauntering her way over to the terminal.

"I'll see you two later," Shepard bid them farewell.

The pair nodded and took their leave, heading up the stairs and out into the spectators lobby.

Jack cast narrowed eyes over the crowd, examining the strangers crowding the open floor, lined up at the vendors for snacks, in the gift shop or spread out around the viewing areas—old habit to prevent getting jumped.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Adults, teenagers and even a few human and Asari kids went about their business, waiting patiently for the next match to begin to see the legendary Commander Shepard in action again. The distraction allowed them to slip out of the arena unnoticed.

They returned to Miranda's place at a surprisingly leisurely stroll, but as soon as the main doors closed, granting them the privacy of solitude, things heated up quickly. Lips crashed together in lust, smiles and grins creased their lips as their bodies mingled together. Hands roamed and groped at spandex and tattooed skin.

Once behind the locked door of Miranda's room, Jack boosted Miranda up against the door, lips melding together again. Her jacket hit the floor first, and then the raven-haired woman turned the tables, pinning Jack's back to the door as she kissed her lips then at her neck and down her to her exposed cleavage.

Her chest heaved with large, somewhat controlled breaths. She bit her lip as gloved hands glided like a teasing feather along her exposed skin and soft lips left behind a trail of tender kisses.

When their lips and tongues danced together again, she didn't retake control to get that stupid skintight outfit off of her, too busy relishing in the arousal created by Miranda's sudden boldness.

Their lips parted briefly, icy blue and brown orbs staring deeply into the others as they remained breathless. Not even a second later their shared passion, lust and arousal pulled them back together again. Jack cradled Miranda's face in her hands, deepening their kiss as their bodies pressed together.

Eventually, though, the tattooed biotic grew tired of the feeling of the spandex and the gloves keeping the much more satisfying warm flesh from touching her. She lowered her hands to Miranda's hips and lightly pressed her weight forward, guiding the high heel wearing woman back towards her bed. She gave her a light push at the edge of the bed, forcing her into a seated position.

Straddling her, Jack rested her hands on Miranda's shoulders, leaned in close but kept her scarred lips tantalizingly out of reach as she guided her back onto her elbows.

What started out as her intention to finally peel back the skintight outfit—the armor once used to distract others and hide her insecurities—ended with the tattooed woman on her back, Miranda between her legs and their lips together again.

As she laid there, fully engaged in a wonderfully tender kiss, her hands trailed up Miranda's covered abdomen, over her breasts and to the zipper standing between her and the woman beneath the armor.

"Mm," Miranda hummed in approval, smiling into their kiss when excited warm hands peeled the skin tight outfit back to her shoulders, exposing an expanse of warm, pale flesh to the cool air of the room and the touch of her intimate partner.

The outfit couldn't be fully removed from this position; it literally was all one piece, but for now exposing her toned stomach and bra covered breasts was enough for Jack.

"God, this is such a stupid outfit," she muttered, pressing her lips down her chest.

Miranda laughed lightly, leaning over her so Jack could keep kissing her exposed upper body. "Admit it, you enjoy it a little."

"Stupid." She kissed. "Impractical." Another kiss. "Doesn't even protect you."

She nibbled on her side, earning a small yelp and giggle. "You ass!"

"Accents your superficial appearance." She kissed her sternum then trailed the very tip of her warm and wet tongue up to her neck, punctuating the line she drew by biting lightly on Miranda's chin. "Which takes away from the real you. I don't need to ogle at your fantastic tits and bubbly butt to enjoy being with you," She spanked her bubbly butt to accent her point and grinned. "Those are bonuses."

"Mm. Then I suppose we should decorate the floor with it," Miranda said. She leaned back and trailed her fingers down Jack's torso to her belt. "Along with these clothes you're wearing."

Jack grinned. "Sounds perfect."

"Hm. Screw perfect. Let's be imperfect."

* * *

Two Days Later

* * *

The probe sent through the Relay proved the success of the repairs. Preparations for Priority: Galaxy Repairs had amped up to a brand new level ever since. People all across the Citadel hurried around, their steps lighter and quicker than ever before as the final touches on the mission were put into place.

Today and tomorrow would be busier than usual for the crews meant to go through the Relay on the mission, and the Normandy was no exception. Miranda had fallen right back into her role as Shepard's XO, a position she was grateful to be in once more after the long, chaotic war and running from Cerberus.

She checked over Shepard's chosen roster, learned the names and jobs of the Alliance servicemen she didn't know and prepared personal quarter's assignments for the crews should Shepard need them.

Their ground team matched the Suicide Mission with a total of twelve. Seven of the twelve were from the last tour of the Normandy—James, Javik, EDI, Liara, Kaiden, Garrus and Tali—while the final five returned from the Suicide Mission squad.

Besides Miranda and Jack, the most obvious to return was Kasumi. She and Shepard remained inseparable, a reality Miranda hoped wouldn't change.

_Even if they cause me trouble._

The final two were Grunt and Samara. The Krogan of the pair had been sent by Wrex as a show of Krogan support; Miranda was oddly relieved to have Grunt on the crew again. His loyalty to Shepard and the crew couldn't be questioned, and neither could his brute strength and prowess on a battlefield.

As for Samara, her code left her split on her duty prior to Shepard speaking to her. While she could not deny her usefulness within the Sol System—controlled biotic power like hers was useful to the recovery teams—there was an entire galaxy in need of aid.

The Normandy once again would be the tip of this healing spear, so she asked Shepard for permission to join them.

Miranda was truly glad for her return. Not only could she finally invest the time in asking for meditation lessons, but she had a feeling Samara's centuries of wisdom would be most useful in the coming days, possibly even one of their greatest assets.

Beyond the ground team returning to the Normandy were those who stayed behind. Jacob chose to remain on the Citadel with Brynn to see his child born; an expected choice that his comrades respected greatly. Miranda already bid her farewell to the pair, as well as moved Oriana to be conveniently closer to her work and Jacob.

_Can't be too careful_, she reassured herself. They had stayed within that space for long enough to draw attention. With Oriana safely in another location, and with Jacob keeping in contact with her, she would be safe.

According to Shepard, Zaeed told her he was, "too old to go paradin' around the galaxy again." While Miranda would have welcomed the old mercenary and his field experience, she understood his desire to stay on solid ground.

Of all the humans on their team, he was the oldest, and had survived plenty of near death experiences _before_ the Reaper War. It wasn't like he wouldn't keep busy. No doubt he'd keep the more colorful characters on the Citadel in line, if Aria didn't do it herself.

The rosters were filed and the crew ready to return onto the Normandy. Today they would figure out the arrangements of where the ground team would stay.

Nobody wanted any headaches or fights to break out between the team for pointless reasons.

Tomorrow would be a ceremony for the fallen and the victory, which the Normandy team and N7 Talons would attend; Shepard specifically was meant to give a speech. The following day was the beginning of their mission, the day they would launch through the Relay to salvage what was left of galactic civilization.

Shepard was already waiting for everyone at the docking bay, Miranda learned upon her arrival. The redhead wore her N7 sweater and jeans. She leaned against the railing as she gazed out the large viewing window at the ship she commanded and the long arms of the Citadel reaching out into the vast blackness of space. Lights on the arms belonging to homes and shops revealed the life returning to the giant station.

Next to her was Kasumi, their hands intertwined as the thief rested her head on the redhead's shoulder.

The rest of the crew, some harboring hangovers from the party last night, slowly gathered together, stopping to converse with one another or move to the railing to take in the view.

Miranda meandered over to the railing and set her eyes upon the ship. She rested her crossed forearms on the railing and exhaled a breath. The ship no longer flew Cerberus colors, for the best considering what her old employer had become. But she didn't wear the symbol either, and still the ship felt like it hadn't changed one bit.

That was merely the exterior, though. There would be new faces around the ship, new uniforms, a memorial wall where past friends names were joined by the servicemen who died on the first Normandy. Some familiar faces would return, but even they would be different than they had been during her first tour on this wonderful ship.

Shepard, the Suicide Mission, the war, they all had an effect on those who boarded the Normandy. And through their experiences, their paths changed completely from what they once thought them to be.

_Everything will be different._

_"You're right, everything will be different. But this time it's going to be on our terms, because we made the changes,"_ she recalled Shepard's heartening words. _"We've been running this whole time. It has to stop."_

She had been a runner for so long. Someone who had hid her insecurities behind a cold attitude and overexposing her body's genetically crafted assets. Without Shepard's influence, she would have kept running, kept avoiding making real connections with people.

Finally, though, she was able to stop running. Through the help of Shepard and Jack, she confronted those insecurities so she could accept her imperfections and start on a path towards finding her normal.

Sensing the presence of another, Miranda glanced to her right to see Jack joining her. "You know, out of all the places I've been, all the shit I've seen, I only ever started to feel at home on the Normandy."

"Mm. Agreed." Miranda rested her head on Jack's jacket covered shoulder and rested her hand on top of hers. "It feels good to be back."

Everything may be different, but there was one thing that would never change.

The Normandy was still home.


	25. Chapter 25: The Path to Our Normal

Chapter 25

The Path Towards Our Normal

The ceremony for the victory and the fallen offered no surprises to Jack. Leadership figures, human and alien alike, joined together in London, where moments of silence were shared between the soldiers and civilians at the ceremony, followed by morale boosting speeches meant to make them look back—and around at the ravaged cityscape—one last time at what had to be lost to bring about this unity.

People of all species and walks of life gathered together at the ceremony, near vid-screens or radio broadcasts, mourning with friends, family and strangers over those lost in the Reaper War.

Some simply chose to silently lift a drink up in a toast. To the memory of friends lost. For words left unspoken and regrets. To the future.

It was nice, Jack supposed. Not all that extravagant or drawn out, but not too short to render the ceremony's purpose pointless. An effective event overall. But it came with the inescapable solemnity this victory granted, a victory that came with scars and loss in every corner of the galaxy.

Quiet and respectful, that summed it all up, save a few rallying cheers near the end.

The ceremony was never going to be an Afterlife club party, where loud, heart pulsing music, dancers, escorts and booze surrounded them. If it had been, Jack would've killed the shit-for-brains to plan it and then the even bigger brain-dead idiot who confirmed it.

Out of all the speeches she heard, Shepard gave the best. Biased? Probably, but Jack didn't care. The other people spoke from their hearts. Not a single person tried to use the ceremony to score political points or sow seeds of division, but Shepard's speech struck the tattooed biotic on a personal level.

That was her friend up there, speaking with raw emotion while telling personal anecdotes of friends or fellow soldiers who sacrificed their lives to win the war.

Anecdotes about Mordin, Thane and Legion's final moments, even the people she never met, _fuck_, it hit harder than a Grunt head-butt, especially when she could _hear_ the N7's voice cracking and wavering in emotion.

Jack and the rest of the Normandy team could only lower their heads or close their eyes, each overwhelmed by memories of their fallen friends and the pain of their Commander.

But through it all, Shepard never mentioned her own personal sacrifices; the sleepless nights of nightmares, the constant battles without rest, the burden of all hope being placed in her hands and on her shoulders.

Shepard had every right to fire off at the leadership who ignored her, in Jack's opinion at least. Instead of getting their shit together after the whole Sovereign incident, they swept it all under the rug, shoving their heads into the sand while screaming at the top of their lungs that everything was fine.

Even when Shepard was proven right they still made her jump through hoops. If anyone had a right to be pissed or to hold a grudge, it was Shepard.

Yet Shepard made no mention of their ignorance or her personal sacrifices. Not once. Not even a _tiny_ mention of the weight the politicians and military leaders threw on her shoulders before patting her ass and telling her to fix their problems. That wasn't her style, never would be.

Shepard was too damn selfless and nice. A real class act. A once in a lifetime kind of person.

Still, the whole ordeal was a mixed bag of somberness and hope for the future, which she expected. Eventually the official ceremony ended. Those who gathered returned to their camps, their bases, their ships or hung around the ceremony area a little longer, chatting about everything and nothing.

Jack retreated back to the Normandy, but the speeches about the past and the future tethered themselves to her mind.

Some of the guys gathered together for a game of cards to shake the somber mood off. Get back to normal. Keep moving forward. Everyone had their way of coping.

Others lounged wherever they felt comfortable—the Mess Hall, their stations, their quarters—while reflecting on the ceremony or the mission. A few spoke about their shared pasts leading up to this point; the good old days, it seemed like, even if it had been as crazy as a platoon of Krogans in a bloodrage, too.

Personally, Jack didn't feel social. The card game would be fun, no doubt, and lounging with Miranda was always peaceful, but she wanted a few moments alone to get her mind right.

Gloom settled over London. The mood of the day, it seemed. Storm clouds assembled throughout the day to darken the sky, finally now unloading their salvos of torrential rain and thunder on the recovering city.

_Wonder how long it'll take for us to rebuild everything here on Earth and everywhere else the Reapers hit._

The Normandy Cargo Hold door remained lowered, and on the metal surface rested Jack, her right leg bent to prop up her right forearm while she crossed her left leg underneath her.

Her brown eyes sometimes gazed blankly out into the obscuring downpour. Other times she shut them and submersed herself in the chorus of rain pattering on the armor plating of the Normandy, the pavement and buildings around her. Thunder rumbled overhead, but it didn't _boom_ ominously or roar like the Reapers had when they descended into atmosphere.

Milling about behind her somewhere were Cortez, Vega and other servicemen of the Normandy. They were all working to reorganize the Cargo Hold in preparation for tomorrow—the day they finally went through the Relay.

She felt nervous about the whole Relay thing, but hey, it wasn't all that different from the Omega 4 Relay when she thought about it. Could have been ripped apart, captured by the Collectors or blown up on exit easily when they made that jump. Hadn't stopped her then from sticking with Shepard, wouldn't stop her now.

Running her right hand down her pant covered shin, Jack leaned forward to rest her chin on her knee, shutting her eyes again and inhaling a deep breath to savor the scent of rain from her dry safe haven. The rapid chorus of rain encompassed her senses. It drowned out all other noise in an intense crescendo.

Jack loved it.

Minutes upon minutes she rested there undisturbed. The cold and stiff metal of the ramp against her ass didn't even really bother her. She dealt with more uncomfortable accommodations in the past.

High-security prisons weren't luxury hotels.

As time moved, the wind picked up, caressing instead of whipping over her exposed areas of skin with its chilly touch. It danced with her ponytailed hair and threatened to bring the rain to her, but the Normandy's body stood defiant against the storm, sheltering Jack as she delighted in every nuance of the heavy downpour.

Eventually footsteps approached at a smooth, confident cadence, settling on her left side in silence. By the cadence of their walk and general closeness to her personal bubble, it had to be Miranda, and Jack was fine with that. She opened her eyes and lazily pivoted her head on her knee to face her.

Miranda stood in her casual clothes, eyes drawn to the all-encompassing downpour and the obscured horizon. Jack's eyes, on the other hand, took their time in tracing over every inch of her shapely figure, starting at her long, strong legs and ending on her calm, stunning features.

Then her eyes trailed back down again, shameless in her appreciation Miranda's perfect body.

"Nice view," Jack complimented.

She really had fantastic tits and a nice bubbly ass regardless of viewing angle.

"I wouldn't say..." Miranda paused in her assessment of the downpour, quick to catch the subtle hint.

Icy blue orbs glanced down to catch the wandering gaze on a northbound path of appreciation. Miranda Lawson was a patient woman; she didn't speak a word or make it obvious she knew what Jack was doing. The smallest of smug smiles tugged at the corners of Miranda's lips; being openly ogled by Jack didn't bother her a bit. If anything, it inflated her ego.

Only when their eyes met did Jack realize Miranda watched her. She grinned cheekily without any hint of shame or embarrassment present in her eyes or heart.

Miranda feigned disapproving eye roll while her smile became amused. "You're incorrigible."

"It's a part of my charm."

"Quite charming indeed. At this rate you might actually make me swoon," Miranda retorted, a spunky flair to her.

"Aw, I didn't think you were the fainting school girl type. Usually all it takes is the slightest hint of possible sex to get them to faint, but you all but demanded me to get you naked."

"_Demanded_?"

"'Get me out of these bloody clothes,' sounds like a demand to me," Jack grinned.

"Well, I'd say you proved receptive to following my orders," Miranda returned without blinking or backing down.

"Heh, sounds like you have a kinky little fantasy. Want me to play the troublemaker you have to correct? Gonna drag me into the shuttle to teach me a lesson, _Captain_ Lawson? Gonna spank me for my insubordination?" Jack teased.

Miranda proved slightly more resilient to her crude humor, a side effect of their relationship, but she was cracking. One more push was all she needed, so Jack pushed. "Do you want to pin me down in the pilot seat and take me to the stars?"

Before the entirety of Miranda's reaction could be savored, a voice from the Cargo Hold sounded off.

"There are other people down here who can hear you, you know!"

Cortez couldn't have sounded more flustered without actually walking in on them in the middle of window steaming sex.

"And people work in those Kodiaks!" he added.

Jack couldn't let it go. Her lips split into a wild grin, and a look of flustered horror crossed Miranda's features. "Jack, wai—"

"Not nearly as hard as she's gonna make me work for a clean record!" she yelled back, the grin on her lips clear in her voice.

"Why? Why would you say that?" Steve's plead was a quiet plea for mercy she barely heard over the rain.

"She means they're going to spend time together intimately, Esteban," James cashed in his revenge.

"Thank you, Mr. Vega! I'm aware!"

"Don't worry, Cortez, I won't leave too many bite marks in the cushions!" she cackled. "Well, as long as she doesn't spank me too hard!"

"_Jack_!" Miranda chastised, pale cheeks a cherry red.

Jack fell onto her back in a fit of cackles. The laughter felt _so_ good. It evaporated the melancholy in her heart as she laid there, flat on her back, struggling to breathe. She could imagine Muscle's grin as he finally extracted his revenge, Steve's horrified face at the thought of Jack dragging Miranda into his pilot seat for some good fun.

Wait until the Girl Scout found about this. She'd probably _die_ laughing her ass off.

Combined with the downpour, a sense of relief and peace washed over Jack, like sitting on an empty beach at the end of the world, a sunset coloring the sky for the final time while the rolling waves crashed lightly against the shore, lapping against her bare feet.

Fuck, she needed that laughter. Needed it like Quarians needed their suits to live.

Today had been so fucking somber, but they had to keep living. They had to keep moving forward towards the future, for their fallen friends and themselves. Standing forever in a pit of darkness sucked the color and life from everything, made life unbearable, like they were dead too.

It suffocated and drowned everyone it could get its claws on. Eventually any kind of emotion—grief, happiness, sorrow, hatred, fury—lost all meaning. Eventually nothing mattered. Not the path ahead, not the people around you, not even your own life. Mere existence became the new norm, and _living_ became an impossible dream.

Jack had been there before. She didn't want to go back, which made laughter at a time like this fucking fantastic.

They'd all mourned already. Now it was time to move forward and put that shit behind them. They could keep their fallen friends in mind, but they couldn't become prisoners to their memories. Turning their fallen friends into a burden was disrespectful to their sacrifice.

Slowly, her laughter settled for small, singular breathy puffs. A few snorts, too. Her wide and playful smile made her cheeks hurt—a good hurt she wasn't used to. Hopefully the future changed that.

Jack remained on her back for another moment or two before sitting up again, crossing her right leg this time under her and bending her left one up.

No apologies, no easing fears by informing Steve it was all a joke. Maybe it was, maybe it'd become reality. Might be a 'fuck it' moment to give the shuttle pilot a hard time in the future, might not be.

Who knew?

_It'll keep him on his toes._

Just the thought of Steve, in a fit of paranoia, checking his pilot seat for bite marks before every future mission almost sent her into another fit of laughter.

"Dare I ask why you're grinning like a madwoman?" Miranda asked cautiously.

"I'll tell you later."

"That worries me even more."

Jack shrugged, grin tattooed on her face. "Consider it another part of my charm."

"Mmhm," she hummed, amused.

"If you're staying, you should sit down. I want to enjoy this rain for as long as I can."

Miranda cast a curious gaze her way but did sit down beside her. She crossed both legs. "You're enjoying this weather?"

"Doom and gloom clouds? Melodramatic thunder and bolts of lightning?" Jack shook her head. "Nah. I couldn't stand it to be like this all the time. But the sound of rain I like. For me, it's the sound of freedom."

"Freedom?" Miranda sounded as if Jack told her she discovered a flying, shark-like alien species in the Sol System. Surprised, uncertain, maybe even a little incredulous. Rain forced people to stay indoors; how could it be associated with freedom?

Jack nodded once. "Yeah. It rained a lot back at Teltin. Shit, you saw the weather when we went there. We were all soaked to the bone before we made it inside, and it wasn't even that far of a jog."

She shut her eyes to be absorbed again in the thunderous chorus of the downpour.

"It'd be easy to hate it as a reminder of that fucking place. But when I would be alone in my room and it'd be raining really hard, I'd shut my eyes and listen to it, and afterwards I'd feel more resolved to keep surviving, because the rain proved there was something outside of my prison. Something I could one day see for myself.

"When I first made it out of there, I stopped like a total idiot and just stood in the rain for a little while. And as I stood there I realized I was finally _free_."

She smiled softly to herself. "It was the smallest of moments between one hell and the next, but that feeling of standing there in the rain, free of the prison I'd known all my life, that was a high no narcotic ever matched."

The feel of the cold rain on her skin, the sound of it pounding heavily against the facility, on the overgrowth of plant life surrounding them—freedom. She was finally free. Shit, she could feel the goosebumps forming beneath her jacket, her eyes even tried to water as they had then.

Years later, the intense swell of emotions she felt that day refused to fade.

"Well, we won't be going anywhere until Shepard and Kasumi return, so…"

She heard Miranda scooting across the metal ramp, but didn't open her eyes until she felt her legs slide beneath her arms and her lower half press against the back of her waist. She looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up in question. Miranda placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"Lean against me and relax. We can stay here as long as you like."

Jack smiled and leaned back into Miranda's chest. "Your tits do make a great pillow."

Miranda snorted against the nape of her neck. Jack could sense her smile without seeing it, and it still made her feel warm and alive. Arms wrapped around her abdomen to hold her in a gentle embrace. "You truly are incorrigible."

"You love it."

"Mm. I suppose I do."

For a long while the two women sat there on the ramp together, eyes shut as they listened to the rain, free from their doubts, concerns and pasts. Free to simply be.

Free.

* * *

The Next Day

* * *

"Commander, all ships are ready and waiting for your order to go through the Relay," Joker announced over the comm.

The time had finally come. Priority: Galaxy Repairs was upon them, and within moments the Normandy would either jump successfully through the fixed Relay, or a catastrophic failure would end all the lives of those aboard.

All or nothing was the Normandy lifestyle.

Jack didn't mind it. Every bet Shepard made so far turned out for the best. She made a job out of making the impossible possible, so she sat relatively at ease on the edge of Miranda's desk, waiting in anticipation for what came next.

Her foot did bounce a little unconsciously—the last of the nerves she couldn't shake off. But should they die in the next few minutes, she wasn't going to cower, make a fuss about it or pace a rut into the Normandy.

Miranda handled the rut on her own.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Watching Miranda nervously pace made _Jack_ nervous. She didn't show much concern or doubt up to this point. She wore her confidence like a set of unbreakable armor, only for it to _now_ crumble off her.

Her icy blue eyes darted around, visualizing calculations on the odds of success and the possibility of failure. Thoughts of her sister, of the future of the Milky Way, her own future interrupted her careful calculations. The stakes of this successful Relay jump lunged to the forefront of her mind.

Anxious teeth bit down on the soft flesh of her lips, both arms hugged tightly around her body to alleviate through comfort. But it didn't keep the thoughts at bay. She kept pacing into infinity, unable to settle her nerves as the situation became real.

They were really doing this. Like the first humans to discover the Relay years ago, they were moments away from making the first leap towards the future.

A leap that may or may not work.

A leap into a situation comprised solely of unknowns.

Unknowns mixed with Miranda as well as Ryncol and human intestines.

Unable to stand it any longer, Jack pushed off the desk to block Miranda's path. Miranda struggled to stop, an attempt to avoid her passionate pacing causing a collision of bodies. Jack caught her by the shoulders and halted her forward momentum. Any more pacing and she'd lose her mind.

Their eyes met, icy blue mixed in confusion and concern before widening when scarred lips crashed against hers.

The kiss did the trick, mostly. The tension irradiating off her like an illuminated drive core dissipated to sustainable levels. Muscles unwound, a deep sigh of satisfaction and peace exited her nostrils.

When they parted, Jack said, "Calm down. It's gonna work out. Pacing around, thinking the worst, it'll drive you insane. Hell it's driving _me_ insane just watching you."

Miranda smiled coyly. "Are you saying the sight of me drives you crazy? I'm flattered."

Jack rolled her eyes, lips twisting into a cocky smirk. "Careful with that ego of yours. Keep stroking it and you'll poke someone's eye out."

"I'll be careful," she laughed lightly.

Her smile and laugh alleviated the last knots of tension Jack felt. She smiled in return, hands gliding off of Miranda's shoulders, down her arms to hold her hands gently.

"Making the jump in: 3…2…1."

As Joker counted down, Miranda leaned up to meld their lips in what could be their last kiss. No cheesy confessions sputtered out of them. No quiet, breathy proclamations they might find in one of Kasumi's books did either.

Anything they might have said or wanted to say, but still lacked the courage to speak out loud, could be found in the meeting of their lips.

"Jump successful, Commander… You can stop your 'in case this is the end' kiss you're doing," Joker teased Shepard.

Jack and Miranda parted slowly, hands held and foreheads pressed against one another. Joker's comment coaxed bashful smiles and eye rolls out of them, as if he had caught them instead of Shepard and Kasumi up in the CIC. But the success of the jump meant their new mission could finally begin.

Ahead of them was a long road of recovery. It was up to all of them to piece together what remained of a galaxy torn apart by war. No small feat, but the Normandy team never did anything small.

A lot of work awaited them, grief too as they would all witness the full devastation of the Reapers, unfiltered and raw as the day the war began. It'd take years to return the galaxy to some semblance of stability, years of hard labor, political bullshit and more than a few fights with asshole scavengers, Cerberus cells and power hungry leaders.

That was the future, though. A future yet to happen. A future Jack didn't know or care about.

Her philosophy on life hadn't change, nor would it. She planned to live in the moment. To savor the good days, the gestures of affectionate, the bond strengthening moments and comradery of the team while working through the bad days by sticking together and dusting each other off when they stumbled. Anything to keep hope alive.

The future would come. It always did. Life never waited for anyone to catch a clue. Life didn't give out handouts or a map and directions on how to live instead of exist. The responsibility of _living_, of making a lifetime of memories, that was up to every individual to do.

This journey ahead of them, regardless of what happened on it, was the path towards their future.

The path towards their normal.

_We'll make it memorable._


	26. Epilogue

Epilogue

Sitting beneath the shade of an octagon-shaped cedar gazebo, her legs crossed like a pretzel on top of the cushion of a yoga mat, was Miranda Lawson. Eyes shut to the world around her, she inhaled a soft, meditative breath through her nose, breathing in the fresh air. Then she exhaled out her mouth. Soft. Controlled. Slow.

Between her pale and well-manicured hands, held up at a slight angle, was a blue orb of controlled biotics, the hue of which arced and snaked around her wrists like bolts of electricity.

An aura of peace and tranquility surrounded her, the quiet air around her broken now and then by the light, harmonizing chimes of a wind chime hung at the entrance of the gazebo.

Seeking out Samara for mediation lessons all those years ago had been truly worthwhile. More than she could have ever imagined.

Mid-afternoon rays of sunlight shone upon the field of grass encircling her place of meditation. A cool breeze made the well-maintained blades of grass bend and dance beneath its gentle hands, caressing over the cedar wood and human skin exposed by her racerback tank top and yoga shorts.

She exhaled again. Smooth and controlled. Her abdomen, expanded by the inhale, tightened back up. Then she inhaled, filling her lungs with oxygen and once more expanding her abdomen.

Fourteen years ago this state of bliss would have been impossible. Ludicrous and laughable. Sitting in one place, doing absolutely nothing work related with no real plan for the day, Miranda could sense her past rolling its eyes at her.

Get serious. Miranda Lawson did not do _nothing_. She did not sit in one place unless work required her to, and she certainly had a schedule to maintain. Objectives to complete. Reports to file.

Miranda smiled, amused by the sudden trail her thoughts drifted to.

_How times have changed_.

Fourteen years and the Normandy changed so much. For her. For her friends. For the whole galaxy, really.

Fourteen years ago, the Milky Way stood at the precipice of complete annihilation because of the Reapers. The Reaper War had spread to every system, every home world and effected every life in some way. It all seemed hopeless. But, in their darkest hour, Commander Anastasia Shepard united the galaxy for one final desperate push to win the nightmare war. And she succeeded.

Together they ended a cycle that had gone on for generations, but not without sacrifice. Not without cost. Friends and comrades gave their lives for the peace she now savored; Shepard herself nearly died to complete her objective.

But that was fourteen years ago. In that time they began to reconnect the galaxy piece by piece. Relay by relay. World by world.

The restoration and repairs continued all these years later. The Reapers left an extensive amount of damage in their wake, to the point some colonies were no longer viable to live on, and possibly wouldn't be for years to come. Such was the reality of a post-Reaper galaxy.

It took six of those years, and plenty of resources, to connect a stable comm and Relay network again. Six years of constant labor and deal striking; it proved to be the second hardest work she'd ever undertaken, second only to the Lazarus Project.

With civilization no longer on the brink of collapse, Shepard took a bow and retired from the line of duty. She still held an active role as an ambassador of peace—uniting the galaxy and saving their civilizations gifted her immeasurable influence. However, in Shepard's own words—

"_It's time for me to find my peace."_

A peace she and Kasumi left in search of together, far away from galactic politics and the lingering nightmares of the war. Eventually, after journeying around Earth, they settled on a secluded beach to begin a new chapter in their life. A new beginning. A life without war or politics or violence.

Admittedly, the thought enticed Miranda considerably at the time.

The pair were quick to start their family, adopting two Asari twins first—Denia and Zenia—and then adding a mini-Shep into the mix via artificial insemination; Xandria, they named her. All three were treasured by Shepard and Kasumi, but their family wouldn't be complete until a year after Xandria's birth when Kasumi would undergo the same process to bring little Miyako into the world.

_That's Kasumi for you_, Miranda mused. _She goes all out for surprises, just like when we hid the return of the Normandy from Shepard years ago._

The beloved ship fell under the command of Spectre Kaiden Alenko after Shepard's departure. Miranda and Jack remained on board for a few more months before Kahlee Sanders called them back to Grissom Academy to begin teaching again.

Through those first six years, and their time as teachers, their relationship continued to grow and mature with them. They grew closer. Both became more affectionate in their special ways, and affection blossomed into love; another foreign experience for both of them to learn together.

Jack was the first to spontaneously say those three special words while they lounged together on a couch in Shepard's apartment. She could still recall the moment perfectly; Jack's head lay in her lap as the reunion party was beginning to die down; they were alone and at peace in a quiet sanctuary. Jack switched between closing her eyes and watching Miranda as she glided fingertips along her arm, her skull, into her hair—anywhere, really.

"_I love you, you know that, right?"_

The confession took Miranda by surprise. There'd been no preamble. No sign of Jack fighting herself on whether or not she should say it; they both used to struggle so much to express affection out loud.

Miranda felt her heart surged into her throat. Her hands paused in their explorations. Bundles of nerves sought to indoctrinate her against the truth, yet…the confession was so innocent, so genuine and _absolutely_ mutual that she didn't second guess herself.

"_I know, and I love you."_

Her feelings hadn't changed since then. If anything, they continued to flourish.

After their students graduated, they too set out to find their peace.

Galactic peace held firm even in the absence of Shepard at the front-lines. The scars of the war were still too fresh to forget, if they ever would be forgotten. Miranda doubted it. The Reapers left no family, no homeworld, no colony or species untouched; isolationism stances continued to be met by overwhelming negativity by the galactic community.

That being said, politicians would be politicians. Shadow organizations like Cerberus and their alien equivalents had ideals that couldn't be eradicated, no matter how hard she tried.

Mercenaries and pirates in the Terminus Systems would tiptoe more carefully under Aria's rule, but the Terminus Systems would never reform. They were the lawless of the galaxy—always had been, always would be.

In Jack's charming words: _"The Reapers didn't exterminate all the assholes in the galaxy."_

Miranda held hope for a better future long after her generation was gone. They both did. More peaceful resolutions and impossible deeds happened in the last decade than her entire life before.

Who could say what the future held? She sure couldn't.

Miranda inhaled another breath. As she exhaled, her enhanced hearing caught the sound of a slider door opening and closing in the distance, but she kept her eyes shut. For now, at least.

The galaxy as a whole continued to change from what she used to know. The darkness. The political plots. The secretive work as an agent of Cerberus. It used to be her life. Work. Work was all she ever did; it was her normal.

After all, what was Miranda Lawson without work?

Shepard and Jack helped her find that answer over time. They helped teach her how to stop running, how to confront her past and move forward from it. They taught her that imperfection wasn't all so bad. Imperfections were what made each individual unique, and perfection was not only unrealistic, it was her gilded cage. A gilded cage her father imprisoned her with.

A gilded cage she had been freed from by the unlikeliest of sources.

Light but excited footsteps scurried up the two steps into the gazebo. Miranda fought to keep her features neutral against the beginnings of a smile. The feet moved behind her. Then two small hands covered over her already closed eyes.

Unable to hide it any longer, she smiled. "Hello to you too, Brianna."

"How'd you know?" the giggled response came.

The body of the child playfully leaned further into her, hands moving to wrap gently around her neck. Chocolate eyes poked into view from over her shoulder, innocence and life gleaming in them. The child's lips were pulled into an excited grin. Her outfit was bright and colorful; a sky blue t-shirt and flowing bright yellow skirt.

Miranda smiled warmly in return. "I'm your mother. I always know."

Those two sentences were yet another impossibility fourteen years ago. Children? A family beyond Oriana and her future nieces or nephews? Beyond the Normandy crew?

No. Miranda's greatest imperfection made it impossible for her to have children of her own. She had greater odds of a Salarian finding her attractive.

Yet here she was. Mother of twins thanks to the person who freed her from her cage.

Miranda glanced around. "Where are your brother and mom?"

"On their way. I snuck out to surprise you."

"Mission accomplished," she smiled. "I suppose I'll have to get you back for that."

Miranda, using her far better reflexes, turned to snatch her daughter's smaller body around the waist.

Brianna let out an adorable squeak as her bare feet lifted off the wood floor before falling into giggles and pleas of mercy. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. After all, what kind of example would she be setting by showing mercy to her prisoner?

Miranda settled Brianna in her lap and attacked her with the most horrifying weapon to all children: Tickles. To her credit, Brianna put up a fight, even managing to hit Miranda's own ticklish bare feet with glancing blows. But it was all for naught. Her mother possessed the greater leverage and power here by position and age.

Brianna kicked, giggled, squealed and squirmed in her lap like a fish out of water looking for a riverbank to escape into.

She found no escape.

By the time Miranda finished her assault, her three year old—soon to be four year old—daughter laid sprawled out in her lap, breathing heavily between interrupting giggles as she tried to hold her mother's hands back.

Little fingers interlaced with adult fingers. Pleading and glistening chocolate orbs met her amused icy blue eyes.

"Momma!" Brianna pleaded.

"Yes?" Miranda teased.

"Please stop!"

"Please stop what, Brianna?"

"Please stop tickling me!"

"Okay, okay. I will," Miranda laughed, placing a quick kiss on her cheek before releasing her.

Brianna sighed in relief but laid in her lap, defeated and grinning up at her.

_You're going to look just like Jack when you're older_, she thought fondly.

Her eyes, her smile, the sharp features, she inherited them all. Her waist-length waterfall of black hair was a bit thicker than Jack's, but the straightness of it mirrored her biological mother.

The sound of another set of feet hopping up the gazebo stairs signaled the arrival of Brianna's fraternal twin brother—Dakota. While they did share similarities in physical appearance, they were not wholly identical. Dakota, for instance, had hazel eyes instead of chocolate. His features were more boyish, too, and a light dusting of freckles lined his cheeks.

Otherwise his dark hair mirrored his mother's, the length of which was steadily growing closer and closer to shoulder length. He wore a fire-engine red shirt and dark blue basketball shorts.

Miranda raised her eyes in time to see him rush towards her, and to catch the sight of Jack meandering over in her peripherals. Dakota wrapped his small arms around her upper body in an embrace. "Caught you!" he exclaimed.

Brianna followed her brother's actions, hugging herself around Miranda's waist. "We've got you now!"

The raven-haired woman let out a light and warm laugh. "Hey! Two on one is hardly fair."

Her children—god, she would never grow tired of those two words—giggled but maintained their hold as she "struggled" to break free.

"Looks like you two captured the princess. Mission accomplished," Jack grinned at the trio.

Miranda looked up. "I am woefully outnumbered," she declared through a laugh.

Jack's infectious grin grew wider. "I can see that."

She placed one bare but tattooed foot onto the first step of the gazebo and braced a hand on the railing. Her hair—free of a ponytail—had grown past her shoulders and close to the middle of her back in recent years. She still kept the sides shaved completely, though, revealing the tattoo crowning her skull.

The long and loose black V-neck tank top Jack wore hung off her slim and fit body, the deep and open neckline exposing more of her colorful tattooed skin. A silver necklace—adorned with a flower pendent Brianna picked out—hung between her cleavage; Jack wore it proudly everywhere she went. Blue jeans complimented her outfit.

"All right you two. Give your mother some breathing room," Jack coerced the pair. "She has to put her mat away still."

Brianna and Dakota both hugged Miranda then Jack warmly before running off to play in the surrounding yard. Miranda watched them go, an affectionate smile on her lips for her two children.

_I love you two._ She exhaled a content breath then hopped up onto her feet.

Jack met her with a tender kiss.

"Captured the princess?" she asked upon parting.

"Yep," Jack nodded.

"Not saved? Not rescued?"

Jack cocked an eyebrow, a humored smirk pulling onto her lips. "Since when were you a useless damsel in distress?"

"Hm. Walked myself straight into that one."

"You made it too easy." The sudden crack of Jack's hand on her buttock cut off any retort she could make. Her body jumped in surprise, leaning further into the tattooed woman groping the stinging flesh.

"Ouch," Miranda said dryly.

"Admit it. You like me spanking your bubbly butt."

"This conversation is not happening here."

Jack grinned. "Later then?"

Miranda playfully pushed her away. "You're incorrigible."

"And you love it."

"True," she agreed, kneeling down to roll up her mat and move it out of the way.

From her kneeling position, she watched Dakota and Brianna go on their imaginative adventure. It was their anniversary four years ago when Jack surprised her with the news of her pregnancy, and these two precious kids were more than she could have ever hoped for.

Like Shepard and Kasumi, Jack went through with artificial insemination. Miranda never expected it. Yet it was the greatest surprises of her life.

All her life she did her best to ensure Oriana could have a normal life. Her sister, unlike Miranda, could actually conceive children, and she always looked forward to that day with joy and fear. Joy for the nephews or nieces she would gain, fear of how she might feel deep inside.

Jealous? Resentful towards fate or her father for her inability to give birth? Depressed? Oriana always came first in her heart and mind. But it was only human for her to hate the cards she was dealt. To _want_ to be a mother, to have children of her own. To want to have some kind of normal.

Adoption was always an option, she knew, especially in the aftermath of the Reaper War.

Ghost and Tara, she learned, had adopted three Asari girls and had three of their own daughters—they decided six was their limit. Shepard and Kasumi had adopted Denia and Zenia, plus gave birth to Xandria and Miyako. Garrus and Tali adopted a Turian girl and a Quarian boy.

Parenthood did scare her, as it did Jack. Neither had good role models as parents. Neither of them even understood what a normal childhood even meant.

"_We know what not to do. That's a good start,"_ Jack once told her after the twins birth.

Yes. Yes it absolutely was. Her father showed her everything a parent shouldn't be, and she would do everything in her power to be nothing like him.

Most of her life she spent outrunning him and protecting Oriana so her sister could have a normal life. With her father dead and her sister a grown woman now, her newest duty in life was to give these two children of hers a fantastically normal life. A life where they could chase whatever dreams they wanted to. No prisons or impossible standards.

She would support and love these two as any good parent would. Because they were her impossible dream turned reality.

Miranda stood up, smiling as her children darted around the yard, loud with laughter and imagination. She slowly moved to the stairwell, leaning her hip against the railing and resting a hand on a beam.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

Miranda dipped her head towards the pair. "For them."

Jack padded closer and wrapped her arms around Miranda's belly from behind. "Hey, I may have given birth to the little squirts, but everything else is a team effort."

Even all these years later, she always knew what to say.

"I love you."

"Love you too, Princess."

At the beckoning of Brianna, Jack joined the game their children played. Miranda promised to join them shortly, but she wanted to first savor the moment. To imprint the photo of these three into her memory banks forever; Jack picking up Dakota over her shoulder and spinning him around like a helicopter; Brianna running away as she was chased, squealing and giggling along the way.

All her life Miranda strove to be perfect, always feeling as the odd one out when talk of normalcy came up. Normal was never a part of her equations, socially or genetically. But with Jack she learned the value of her imperfections as they set out to find their version of normal.

Together they found it.

What was Miranda Lawson without work? She was an older sister. A comrade. A valued friend. A lover. A mother.

Miranda stepped down and out of the gazebo, catching Brianna in her arms. "I've got you now!" she laughed.

Her daughter squealed in excited terror.

Their love, their wonderful kids, this peace they found after all of their experiences, they were all parts of a bigger whole that went by many names.

Their unique normal.

Their imperfect perfection.

Their family.

_Home._

The End

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for reading!_


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